


Another Brother

by AvocadoLove



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Family Feels, For Want of a Nail, Gen, Sibling Bonding, What-If, water tribe zuko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-03-08
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 73,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvocadoLove/pseuds/AvocadoLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a mission of revenge. There weren't supposed to be any survivors, but Chief Hakoda couldn't bring himself to kill the Fire Nation boy. Against his better judgment, he brought him home. A Zuko joins the Water Tribe story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never Gives Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by Kotofeika: http://kotofeika.deviantart.com/art/AU-chibi-Zuko-93873440

 

 

 

"You’re going through a metamorphosis, my nephew. It will not be a pleasant experience, but when you come out of it, you will be the beautiful Prince you were always meant to be." 

_~ Iroh, The Earth King_

_  
_

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

Chief Hakoda hated the cleanup after any battle, even if it was one that ended in victory.

He stood on the high prow of the newly captured Fire Nation ship, silent and watching his men work in twos and threes; stripping the ship for much needed supplies and throwing the bodies of their enemy overboard. Dark red pools of blood splattered the deck and drained under the metal rivets. Most of it, Hakoda noted with a grim satisfaction, the enemy's.

It hadn't been luck that had resulted in not a single mortality for his tribe, but careful strategy. The Fire Nation ship had been sighted mid-morning and they had stalked it silently. They struck at night, with the moon high in the sky blinking her baleful light on the fighting — the screaming.

The enemy ship had only three benders among her ranks, and without the energy of their elemental Sun Spirit they had been at a near disadvantage.

And now they were dead, and Chief Hakoda had a Fire Nation ship at his command.

A stiff breeze whipped his brown hair, and the newly rising sun cast long shadows across his face making the normal handsome man look haggard; old before his time.

As soon as his men were done scavenging, they would blast a hole in the bottom of this unnatural abomination. Hakoda trusted his own ships which were secured with natural wood, resin, and tar. This metal blasphemy deserved to be at the bottom of the ocean.

In water this deep, the Fire Nation would never be able to salvage it. It wouldn't be a great loss, but it would be a loss, and any wound to those evil murdering savages was a boon to him and his men's hearts.

This mission was one of revenge.

It had been three months since the surprise attack on the Southern Water Tribe. It had happened while most of the men were out on their annual seal-hunt. The losses… were staggering. Many had lost their entire families. While his own two young children were safe, Hakoda had lost his wife, Kya… and a part of his heart had died along with her.

"Hakoda!"

Hearing his name, the young Chief turned and saw Yuruck waving at him from portside. "There's something here you need to see!"

Raising his hand to signal that he had heard, Hakoda took the stairs to the lower deck two at a time. A group of men were gathered around what almost looked like an emergency metal raft. It had been strapped to the side of the ship, and its dust coverlet had been tugged half off by the search party. Whatever drew his warriors interest had been underneath.

Hakoda's second in command, Bato, turned at his arrival. "Tatum found him while searching out for supplies." Then he moved aside, and quite suddenly Hakoda found himself looking at a boy.

There was no doubt that the child was Fire Nation, what with his raven black hair and pale skin. He lay curled up, asleep with his knees tucked to his chest, completely unaware of the group gathered around him — and the reason for that was quite clear. Dark stains of blood, black with age spilled down the front of his robe like a young child who had tipped water on himself. It looked like someone had slashed his neck, from ear to collar. There was more. The visible upper left corner of his face surrounding the eye and left corner of his face was black, blistered and burned. Both wounds seemed infected, and Hakoda could smell the stink of rot from several feet away.

"What kind of monsters…" Yuruck whispered, but couldn't finish.

Bato touched Hakoda's shoulder. "I know you said that there were to be no survivors." It was a simple statement, and for a moment Hakoda didn't know what his first mate was alluding to until he noticed that the boy's chest was rising and falling in small, shallow movements. Despite the grievous wounds, he was alive.

All the men were looking to him now, and Hakoda felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. Bato was right. There were to be no Fire Nation survivors. The invading Fire soldiers had specifically targeted children on their last raid. Bato's two daughters were part of the casualties — murdered as they slept in their beds.

This was war.

Hakoda knew could not ask any of his men to do this. This would be his burden and his alone. With a nod, he reached to his long knife on his hip, unsheathing it. "Go," he said, simply.

The warriors didn't argue. None wanted to witness this. Hakoda shut his eyes, and waited until their footsteps faded away. Then, gripping his knife in a sweaty hand, he brought it to bear. The boy was clearly fevered with his wounds — this would probably be an act of mercy. The kindest thing would to make it quick as possible so that he never woke up.

But as he turned the child over to get a clear, precise target at the neck, he caught a glimpse of the other side of his face; whole, unblemished, and young… younger than he thought. Why, the child had to be about the same age as his own Sokka…

He hesitated.

An image of his firstborn flashed in his mind. Sokka's laughing face, his sly intelligence, so sharp for a nine-year-old. He was a brave boy. He had begged to go along with them, to help take revenge for his mother's death. Both Sokka and his younger sister, Katara, expected Hakoda and his men to fight for their mother and the others…. How could he go back to them, and look them in the eyes, and tell them that the face of one of the enemy had been a child?

Hakoda's hand dropped. He had lost his nerve.

His men wouldn't like this, but he was the Chief, and besides… it was a great possibility the child would be dead before morning.

Carefully, wrapping the boy in the raft coverlet, he hefted him in his arms. The smell from the rotten wounds was nauseating.

The Fire Nation boy slept on, oblivious.

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

Later that evening, Hakoda chose to take dinner alone in his private cabin rather than fest victory with his men. He wanted to be with his own thoughts and plan what to do next.

Counting this last victory, he and his men had taken out four Fire Nation battleships. There were dozens more out there, sailing what should have been Southern Water Tribe waters. His warriors were willing to challenge them all, but reports from below deck had their supplies running low. Even with salvaging there were things that just couldn't be replaced. His men were getting fatigued, and soon it would be time to return home.

Hakoda's wishes for privacy were, of course, ignored by his second in command. Bato burst in the cabin without preamble, stinking of bad Fire Nation wine. Hakoda glanced up from his navigation maps and gestured for him to shut the door. Bato was the only one who could get away with interrupting him like this, but he didn't want the other men to see it.

"Healer Kuthruk's finally finished on the boy," said Bato in his normally direct way, as he came around to the other side of the desk. "He'll have to use most of our bandaging and probably all of our rosethorn packing to stay the infection. He says, though, that he might survive, but he'll probably lose that eye."

Hakoda grunted acknowledgement and went back to his maps. He knew Bato almost better than he knew himself. The man had another point to make, and Hakoda would be quiet and let him make it. He wasn't in the mood for games.

Sure enough, after a brief pause, Bato spoke again. "The men are relived we don't have a child's blood on our hands, but what if he survives, Hakoda? You know what he will become. No one will tolerate a Fire Nation man—"

Hakoda cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I doubt that boy is even eleven years old. He's hardly a man."

"He will be, someday. What do you plan to do? Take him ice-dodging when he's older?"

The chief looked up and saw the steel passion in his friend's blue eyes. "_If_ he survives," he replied. "The boy will be taken on our next voyage and dropped off at the nearest Earth Kingdom port. Some of the Southern Islands are still neutral in the war." He had no intention of letting the seed of an enemy take root in his tribe.

Bato nodded, satisfied, and finally bent his attention on the navigational map. "Back home, then?"

Hakoda marked his stylis against the paper, drawing out their route. "Not right away. I want to patrol the local area for at least a week before we pull into port. No use going back only to be attacked again… I want our waters clear. If all goes well," he made another small notation and then leaned back, overlooking his work with satisfaction, "we should be seeing our shores within the month."

"I'll pass the word along?"

It was more a question than anything else and Hakoda nodded, rolling up the map and passing it along to his first mate. "If you please, and tell me about any changes with the boy."

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

Zuko awoke to a world of pain. The left side of his face seared in agony, much worse than the needlesharp pain in his neck and on his chest. He tried to groan, feeling the world tilt and spin around him. He reached up automatically to his face only to have his fingers snatched in a much stronger hand. "No," said a voice. "Don't touch. Drink this, boy. It'll rehydrate you."

Something warm was pressed against his lips; the lip of a bowl. Salty broth splashed in his mouth, and he sipped eagerly for his hunger and thirst was almost worse than the pain. Later on, he would realize that the broth had some kind of medicine in it. The pain receded, and within a few moments he was asleep again.

Thus passed his first few days onboard the Water Tribe ship. He would wake up — sometimes by the executing pain of a bandage being changed on his face, sometimes by simple hunger. He would be told not to touch anything, and either broth or soothing tea would be forced on him.

On the forth day, Zuko opened his unbandaged eye, and got a fuzzy impression of wooden walls, a thick animal fur and a tanned, deeply lined face above him.

Then there was nothing.

On the sixth day his fever broke and Zuko awoke for the first time from what was more or less a natural sleep. For once there was no firm voice directing him to drink, and his hand went up to his face to encounter a soft bandage, like a patch, over the left side of his face.

What happened? Where was he?

The room he was in was small and dark except for a single oil lamp lit in the corner. His bed was nothing more than a simple pallet lined with what had to be some kind of animal fur. Zuko stared dumbly at it, tracing his fingers along the soft edge of the blanket. It felt foreign to him.

The door opened, and he startled, pulling himself up to his elbows. If he was surprised, the figure in the doorway was as well. The man paused for a long, long moment before walking in, tray in hand. "Well, I see that you're up… good. That's a good sign," he said, his voice carefully measured.

The man set the tray by his bed, and his face fell into the light. Despite himself, Zuko took in a quick breath of surprise. He was unlike any man he'd seen before; darker with a rounded, flat nose and brown hair and… very, very cold blue eyes.

"How are you feeling?" the man asked.

Zuko opened his mouth to reply, but a sharp pain in his throat ended his word before it even began. He couldn't even hiss an answer. Instinctively, he reached up to grip at the sudden source of pain, but his hand was slapped away.

"No, don't touch!" Reaching over, the man brought the oil lamp closer and peered at Zuko's neck, grunting with what he saw. "Must have cut the vocal cords. Not that I'm surprised. You're a very lucky little boy. Whoever did that did that to you missed the big vein there by a hair."

Zuko didn't answer. He couldn't.

The man continued as if he had, "But I don't suppose you're feeling very lucky. I dare say that you won't lose the eye after all, but there will be a scar." He paused, snorting, "Oh yes, there will be a scar. The neck may heal, with time. Until then, you will use this." He reached under Zuko's pallet and came back up with a piece of parchment and some soft coal-chalk. "Write your name. Now that I'm fairly sure you'll live, I don't want to be calling you 'boy' anymore."

Swallowing painfully, Zuko did what he was told. He wanted to ask so much: Where was he? How did he get here? Did someone attack him? But his fingers trembled with the small effort of writing his own characters. When he pushed the parchment back the healer didn't look pleased.

"Zuko. Great Spirits." The healer rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Now that's a Fire Nation name if I ever heard one. Let's hope that the Chief graces you with a new name; a proper Water Tribe name. Now," and he pushed the tablet back, "tell me what you were doing on that ship. Were you a stowaway?"

Zuko stared at him for a moment, and then at the tablet. What was this man talking about? And what had happened? He couldn't remember… he had been…there had been fire… and pain… he was screaming something… and there was nothing.

Looking back on his own memories felt like a raw-burned wound. He didn't want to remember. It hurt too much.

Shaking his head, he shoved the tablet back.

For a moment he thought that the healer was going to demand he write again, but with a shrug he simply packed the tablet under the bed and brought the tray forward instead. "Well, I'm sure you'll tell your story when it's time. For now, let's see if you can keep down solids. You do remember how to eat?" His voice was kinder than it had been, and when he lifted the top off the tray a rush of delicious scents made Zuko instantly forget how upset he was. He nodded enthusiastically.

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

The next morning, he awoke to a soft shaking on his shoulders. Kuthruk, the healer from yesterday stood above him. "Wake up. The Chief wants to see you. Sit, and don't touch your eyepatch."

Blinking, feeling muzzy from a combination of painkillers and fever weakness, Zuko did what he was told. Trying to move about was difficult with his neck and face all tied in white. Kuthruk had to help him change into a simple blue tunic and pants. The clothes were obviously made for a man, and he had to cinch up a leather belt nearly twice around his torso to keep everything together.

Then, with a steady hand on Zuko's shoulder, Kuthruk guided him up to the main cabin. They had to pass for a few moments between two doorways on the outside, and Zuko caught a rush of salt-scented air and endless blue ocean before he was ushered in again.

The Chief's cabin was many times larger than his own, and it wasn't only the Chief, but a whole group of tanned, brown haired men there to greet him. Their conversation stopped the moment the door opened, and immediately, Zuko felt himself the center of attention from at least ten pairs of eyes.

Most boys would shrink back, and indeed years down the road Zuko would examine this memory and wonder at the fact that he didn't, and what it meant for him. But as it was, he was used to attention, and found it almost ordinary to be stared at.

The Chief himself sat in the middle. He was younger than most of the tribesmen, but he had an immediate way about him that commanded respect. Like the rest of the men, his eyes were blue. Like looking into a deep volcanic lake where the waters extended down, down, down…

Kuthruk pushed him forward, and Zuko knew what to do without being told. He got down on his knees, hands and forehead touching the floor in the way any Fire Nation child would greet a high leader.

A buzz of murmurings broke out among the group, and a couple laughed out loud. For his part, the Chief merely cleared his throat into a fist and touched Zuko's shoulder, bringing him back up into kneeling position.

"We'll have none of that here. You're on a Water Tribe ship." The Chief said, in a way that would probably make a lot of sense to an adult, but made none to Zuko. He looked back over his shoulder in confusion, seeking Kuthruk's guidance, but the healer's face was a blank mask. He was no help.

The Chief spoke again, drawing back Zuko's attention. His voice was neither kind or unkind, but direct and to the point. "Healer Kuthruk tells me that you can't speak, so I would like you to nod and shake your head when I ask you a question. Can you do that?"

Zuko nodded his head. He did this carefully, to avoid pulling the stitches across his neck.

"Good. As I said before, you are on a Water Tribe ship, my ship. While you are aboard it, you are under my command. Do you understand?"

Zuko nodded.

Chief Hakoda seemed to hesitate as if weighing his next words. "Right now there are no other children here, so you will be treated like a man. You will be given chores, like the other men, although I'll make sure that these don't interfere with your recovery." He gave a nod of respect towards Kuthruk. "You will be expected to do these without complaint."

Although Hakoda hadn't asked him a question, Zuko felt he should nod again. It seemed to be the right thing to do. For the first time, the Chief graced him with a small smile. "I have a son around your age. You may meet him. How old are you?"

Zuko started to raise his hands, and then hesitated, confused. For a long moment he stared at his fingers, his uncovered golden eye darting back and forth. He knew how to count. He was sure of it, yet… he didn't know his own age. He couldn't recall having a birthday, although he knew what one was. Finally, he looked up at the Chief and shook his head.

"No?" Hakoda repeated. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You don't want to tell me, or are you not sure? No, you can't answer that. Well, then." One hand came up, tapping thoughtfully at his chin. "Do you know if your father was on a Fire Nation ship?"

Zuko shook his head. He didn't know.

"He could be a bastard," muttered one man, from the back. "Doesn't know who his father is."

"That's enough from you, Tatum," snapped another man, to Chief Hakoda's right.

Hakoda ignored the sniping and gestured towards one of his men. Immediately, a map was rolled out in front of Zuko. "Do you know what this is?"

Zuko looked and recognized the Fire Nation archipelago. It was more or less a detailed map of all the major islands. He glanced up to the Chief with a vaguely amused expression before nodding. Of course he knew what this was.

The Chief named some islands, and Zuko put a finger to them, pointing them out accurately. Hakoda asked him to point to the major cities, and then almost as if it were a test, the minor villages.

Then Chief Hakoda asked where Zuko lived, and for the first time the boy's mind stuttered to a halt. He took a long moment to study the map, and found that he didn't know.

Zuko looked up, and shook his head.

Hakoda asked if he had ever seen any ships in the ports, and how many there were and what kind were they? To this, Zuko also had to shake his head. He couldn't remember that either.

Finally, they asked him to write down his family name and the name of his parents. That, he couldn't do. After a long moment of staring at the parchment, he shook his head and pushed it back.

Healer Kuthruk spoke up. "He may be just frightened, Hakoda. He is just a boy, and considering his injuries…"

But Zuko was looking at him, shaking his head. He wasn't shy. He just didn't know. They kept questioning him about it, expecting him to be frightened or upset, but it was hard to be scared when he didn't even remember the people he was supposed to miss.

Hakoda still tapped at his chin thoughtfully. "If you remember any of these things, Zuko, I want you to find Kuthruk and have him let me know."

Zuko nodded.

"Excellent. You're dismissed."

At once the Healer put a hand on his shoulder and steered him to the door. Zuko left, feeling weak, but thinking already about how hungry he was getting again. It didn't occur to him that he would continue to be the subject of the men's discussion for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

The next day Zuko was put under the care of Nunka, who, at twenty, was the youngest warrior on the ship.

"Have you ever knotted netting before?" the young warrior asked, as he retrieved Zuko from his room the next day. At Zuko's headshake, he said, "There's nothing to it, really. It's just tedious. Normally, the women do it, but since it's just us we have to make do."

Nunka may not have liked the work, but after he sat down on the deck, Zuko saw how quick and accurate his tanned fingers were with the net-rope. It seemed to be only a few flicks of his hands, and he had a string of knots completed which was the beginning of a tightly woven net.

"See?" said Nunka, holding up his work and grinning when Zuko's eyes widened. "Nothing to it."

Zuko opened his mouth, about to request for Nunka to do it again, but slower this time; his throat burned with pain. He couldn't even hiss.

Nunka did end up showing him again, and again. He would show Zuko as many times as he needed, but demanded near perfection in return. He would unstring twenty minutes worth of Zuko's work for a minor error. The third time this happened, Zuko made the mistake of glaring at the warrior and trying to snatch his rope back before it was undone. He received a sharp cuff on the back of his head for his insolence. After that, Zuko still seethed when he was made to redo the work, but he seethed discretely.

Finally, around midday Nunka seemed satisfied with his knots and allowed Zuko to have a snack of seal jerky and dried snow plums. Zuko's fingers, unused to working with rope, were starting to blister. So after the meal, Nunka led him down to the gallery and put him in charge of the cook, Ekchua, who had the biggest nose Zuko had ever seen.

Preparing food, Zuko quickly found, was much better than net-knotting. He didn't get to be outside, but he did get to sneak bits of what was being prepared, when Ekchua wasn't looking.

The next few days passed much the same with meeting the men and learning new things from each one of them… and eventually those days rolled into weeks. Slowly, as he grew stronger, Zuko was introduced to more and more of the ship's chores. The men weren't kind, but they weren't cruel. As long as Zuko did what he was told, and didn't put up a fuss, they were satisfied.

Occasionally, someone would ask him a question about the Fire Nation, and as long as they worded it in an indirect way, he found he could answer it with a nod or a shake of his head. The moment it became personal, he couldn't. One day Nunka mentioned that Fire Nation food was spicy. To this, Zuko nodded. It was spicy… but also full of flavor and delicious. But when Nunka asked what his favorite food was, Zuko could only shrug. He didn't remember having any particular dish… so how would he know?

One day, Ekchua (who was a quiet sort of person, so he and Zuko got along very well) asked if he missed his family. Zuko shook his head. He didn't miss his family. He didn't know his family.

As the days wore on, and the ship sailed further and further south, the air became cooler and cooler. Zuko got the surprise of his life one morning when he slipped and fell on a patch of frost that had collected in a shadowy corner of the ship.

Frost, he found, was something he felt sure he had no experience with at all prior to waking up on the Water Tribe ship. He liked the way he could trace patterns in the patches using his warm finger, and watch the white ice melt away to water. By mid-day, all the frost on the ship had melted away completely. It came back the next day, and the day after that… until it was cold enough so that the frost didn't disappear at all.

Zuko would get to know ice very well. Indeed, in the next few years he wouldn't pass one day of his life without it. But he wasn't to know that yet, and having lived near the equator all of his life, he now saw it as a novelty.

There was one more important lesson that Zuko learned while on the ship: Fear of the Fire Nation.

He knew that he was different from the Water Tribe men, of course, even without their constant comments. His skin was pale, his eyes gold to their blue. He wore his dark hair up in a high fashioned phoenix tail at the top of his head — he didn't know why. He just knew he had always done this, and it was right. So he fixed it as such, every day. The Water Tribe men had the top layer of their brown hair pulled and tied at the back of their head's, with the rest of it flowing to their shoulder's.

But some of the men had burn-scars; on their arms, or on their legs. Sometimes when the wine would be passed around, Zuko would watch them compare their scars and tell outlandish stories on how they got them fighting Fire Nation soldiers.

But none of them could beat Zuko's scars.

Healer Kuthruk finally stopped bandaging his eye on the third week and allowed Zuko to look in a small polished piece of metal at his own reflection.

_I look mean,_ was the first thought that came to his mind. One quarter of the left side of his face was an angry red, extending raggedly past his hairline to his temple. The skin around his left eye was a darker shade; the eye itself puckered into a permanent glare. Zuko could see well enough, though.

The other side of his face was whole, and this was the side Zuko preferred to focus on. His neck was healing better, and the scar there would be more of a puffy line… maybe it would even fade in time. It was nothing compared to his face.

Zuko touched his scar around his eye, felt the tough flesh there, and put down the mirror. He didn't pick it back up for a week.

While all this related to the Fire Nation in a more or less direct way, and although he knew that he was Fire Nation, he didn't give where he came from much thought.

At least, until they attacked.

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

Zuko woke up one night to the clammer of alarm bells being rung topside. He had seen the great bells before; one positioned on every side of the ship, but had never heard them until now. He lay still under the thick blankets, unsure of what he should do. The warriors all slept in separate bunks in another room. His own room, a hastily cleaned out storage space, was given to him because he was the only boy and also because he was Fire Nation. He had no one to look to for direction.

Footsteps thundered from the hallway beside him, and a shout went up, "WE'RE BEING BOARDED!"

Instantly, like a thick cloud bursting all of its rain at once, a roar went up from the Water Tribe warriors. And an answering one sounded from somewhere topside.

Zuko threw back his blankets shot to his feet. He had no real idea what he would do when he got out there, but it didn't matter because the door didn't budge; not even when he threw his entire weight against it. Someone had thrown the bolt against the other side. Perhaps they did it every night, and he'd never noticed before, but now it kept him in and away from the battle.

Zuko shoved his shoulder into the door again and again, and beat his fists against it. His mouth opened in silent shouts. Outside he could hear screaming, the swell of fighting men… everyone he knew was out there fighting. Everyone but him.

Suddenly, it was as if the world itself exploded. He was thrown backward against his bed in a rain of wooden splinters and flame. Zuko coughed, blinked, and then looked up into a nightmare.

To the boy's eyes, the man standing in his doorway seemed to be about ten feet tall. He was dressed in red plated armor, colored like dried blood. His face was covered in a white skull-like mask with only his light amber eyes glinting out.

The man stared down at him. This boy with the strange coloring, but who also wore the colors of the Water Tribe. With a snap of his wrist, the man lit his hand in a sheath of yellow flame and stepped forward, ready to snuff out the enemy's child.

Zuko stared at him with wide eyes, pressed against the fall wall, shaking his head silently. Mute as he was, he couldn't scream for help.

The Fire Nation solider took another step towards him, and then faltered. His eyes, locked against Zuko's suddenly grew wide… and then blank. He fell forward onto his knees, and then crumpled down to the floor; the handle of a long bladed knife sticking from his back.

Behind him, stood Chief Hakoda.

"Are you alright?" Hakoda stepped forward, grabbing Zuko's wrist and hauling him up to his feet. Seeing his grateful nod, he reached to his belt and unstrapped something from the worn leather. Zuko found a slanted piece of metal shoved in his hand. "Here, take this boomerang. Use the sharp point to defend yourself if you have too. We're going to the top. Stay by me."

Then he was off and running, and Zuko didn't even have time to gape at the dead Fire Nation before he had to turn and follow.

The deck was pure chaos; fighting men, bodies lying in horrible awkward positions, and explosions of flame flying everywhere.

One solider stepped in front of Hakoda and Zuko, a jet of fire blossoming from his fist. The Chief was more than equal to it. He moved faster than Zuko had ever seen, and with a smooth movement had gotten beside the man and knocked his knees out from under him. The man gasped, and with another shove Hakoda had toppled him off the deck and into the cold, black night sea.

The soldier's final gout of flame had not dissipated into nothing. It caught the wooden railing on fire. Zuko grabbed for a bucket of water — left over from when he and some of the other men had washed the deck earlier in the day — and doused the flame.

But there were more. Small fires left from Fire Nation benders caught the wooden ship like kindling. The warriors were too busy fighting to take notice; indeed Hakoda was in hand to hand combat with another Fire Nation solider. Zuko knew keep in his bones that the fire must be contained. It was just as important as fighting. So, grabbing another bucket, he ran to the aft of the ship and put out another fire there.

The warriors of the Water Tribe were fighting for their very lives. They had been ambushed by surprise, and were greatly outnumbered, but they were up to the challenge, and they were slowly winning the battle.

Only a few took notice of the Fire Nation boy running back and forth, putting out their enemy's small fires. No one saw how, when Zuko ran out of water, he took off his shirt and beat the flames down with it — sometimes slapping the fire with the palm of his hand to make sure it didn't spread — and all without being burned.

Finally, with a long hooting call from the attacking Fire Nation ship, what was left of their soldiers turned and retreated.

Dawn broke with celebration and success. The warriors had driven the enemy back… but the cost had been painful. Nunka, the youngest warrior on the ship, had been stabbed through the heart by an enemy blade.

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

Later in the day Hakoda sat in his cabin, battling back a ache that was threatening to split his head in two.

The food stores had been burned to a crisp, and the fresh water tainted. The Fire Nation's aim had been to stop this rouge ship from its mission of revenge, and in that it succeeded. They would have to turn immediately for home or risk starvation.

This wasn't how he intended to end their months long campaign. Not on a failure. It was looking, though, like he wouldn't have a choice.

A soft knock sounded at the door. Hakoda growled, "Come in!"

He expected Bato with some more bad news. What he got instead was Zuko.

The boy walked in carefully and placed one clasped fist into his cupped palm in a bow of respect — they had finally gotten him to stop bowing to the floor like a Fire Nation dog a couple weeks ago. The boy couldn't speak what he wanted of course. Instead he reached back behind him and pulled out a bladed boomerang from his belt, handing it to Hakoda.

Hakoda looked at the boy and his disfigured, but earnest face. "No, Zuko," he said, pushing the boomerang back. "A boy your age ought to have a weapon for himself. Keep it, it's yours."

A grin lit up the Zuko's face, taking the Chief by surprise. He was a quiet child, of course, being muted. But Hakoda also noticed that he kept to himself; never playing outlandish imaginary battle games, or running around the ship in a fit of childish energy. This was the first time he had seen him smile.

"We will be arriving back at our home village within the next two days," Hakoda continued. "My son, Sokka, is very good with the boomerang. If you ask him, he'll show you what he knows." Actually, it was very likely that Zuko wouldn't have to ask at all. Sokka would be more than willing to show off to whomever was around — whether they cared to see or not. But Zuko was nodding enthusiastically, and Hakoda felt a hint of a smile cross his face.

He dismissed Zuko and watched the boy scamper off. It would be strange, he thought, strange to see a boy like him running and playing in the village. When Hakoda had decided to spare his life, he didn't truly think he would survive, much less begin to thrive.

When the men next went out to battle, they would have to drop the boy off at an Earth Kingdom port, of course. Zuko couldn't stay with them forever. But Hakoda didn't realize until just then that he wasn't looking forward to that day. Not at all.

With a sigh, the young Chief got to his feet and headed out his cabin. Now that he had promised the boy, he might as well make his orders to turn home known to his men.

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 


	2. Forgetting Who He Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by Lazy Artisan: http://lazyartisan.deviantart.com/art/Critical-Decision-Color-99836414

[ ](http://lazyartisan.deviantart.com/art/Critical-Decision-Color-99836414)

* * *

Remember this Zuko. No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are.

 

_\- Ursa, Zuko Alone_

* * *

 

The next morning, the Water Tribe warriors held their funeral for Nunka.

Healer Kuthruk had spent the entire night swathing the body in blue bandaging; covering him over and over until he looked more like an outline of a man rather than the actual person Zuko had known. Then another blue tarp was placed over that, this one with the Southern Water Tribe insignia.

The services were held out on the deck. The air was crisp, clear, and almost achingly cold, and it was everything Zuko could do not to fidget in place and stamp his feet to keep his blood warm. As it was, Kuthruk had to quell him down with a couple of hard stares before he settled and resigned himself to just staying cold.

As Chief, Hakoda presided over the whole affair and spoke in deep, stirring tones about their fallen comrade. How even as a boy, Nunka had always been eager to become a warrior. How he'd insisted on taking his ice-dodging rites a year early. His acts of bravery: The time he had saved a drowning girl by jumping into a frozen lake after her. He'd nearly drowned himself, and then got pneumonia for his efforts. And how, last night, it had been he to ring the alarm bells. The Fire Nation soldiers had killed him for his effort, but in doing so, he had saved them all.

Some of the men were crying silently, fat tears running down their tanned faces and into their beards. Zuko sniffed, remembering how Nunka had taught him to knot nets. How was he ever able to look at another net without thinking of him?

When all was said, Hakoda nodded to two of the men on his right: Nunka's brother and brother-in-law, respectively. The Chief wished Nunka a safe passage into the Spirit World, and then they tipped Nunka's body over the railing. He was so well bound up that he slipped right under the waves without so much as a bubble.

Zuko cast a hesitant look over the railing, but the water was so dark and so blue that he couldn't see below the surface. It felt to him a strange way to bury a person. He himself would rather be burned to ashes. At least that way, he could stay warm forever, and his remains could be placed in the Halls of Ancestors.

If this was a strange thought to have, he didn't know it. And of course, he couldn't share it with anyone.

The food had been mostly charred, and the water tainted, but the Fire Nation soldiers hadn't broken into the casts of wine. These were brought up at Hakoda's order, and soon all of the men were drinking and trading more and more outrageous stories about Nunka. They were stories too impolite to mention at the man's funeral, but what were good fodder for erasing tears during the wake.

For his part, Zuko stayed just apart from it all. He didn't like the taste of wine, although he did sip it out of thirst. He spent his time at the railing, watching the water slip past the bow of the ship. Off in the distance, he could see what almost looked like small white rocks bobbing in time with the waves. These were the beginning of what would later become a field of never-ending icebergs.

Tomorrow, they would be at the pole.

As the wine flowed, the men's talk slowly went from Nunka to the Fire Nation in general. Even with his back turned, Zuko could feel the burn of eyes upon his narrow shoulders.

"Nunka was one of a kind. They just snuffed him out, like he was nothing."

"They're savages. Got no respect for the beautiful… or the pure."

"You know they did to the Hai Bei forest? They were in the middle of a drought and the Fire Nation burned it, and everyone in it, alive…"

"I say we turn around and go right for the capital city. Do them like they did those poor Air Nomads."

"An eye for an eye. That's how the Water Tribe does things."

At this point, Zuko had edged away, ducking out of sight.

It was a short walk to what was left of his room. The door was completely shattered and still lying in pieces, and the room now smelled like the slightly arid scent of burned wood and sour blood. Zuko wrinkled his nose against it, and quickly dug around, giving a silent sigh of relief when he saw that the small mirror he had been allotted was unbroken. It had been hidden under his futon mattress, because he didn't like to use it often, for obvious reasons.

Now he brought it up and made himself look at his own reflection — at the whole side of his face.

Yellow-gold eyes like the sun. Pale skin. A sharp nose, and black hair.

Last night, the Fire Nation soldier who attacked him had been scary — inhuman. He had reached out towards him, probably about to kill him for no other reason than just being there. And under all those layers of red metal and fire there was a person… a person who looked a lot like Zuko himself.

But they were cruel. He'd heard the men talk, not just tonight but on all the nights when there was too much wine to go around. The list of Fire Nation sins went on and on… they killed all the Air Nomads, they killed Nunka, and now Zuko's stomach growled from hunger because they had burned all the food.

_I'm not like them_, thought Zuko, and his reflection stared at him, set and determined. _I'm not evil like them_.

This wasn't an unusual thought for a child of his age to be having. Zuko still saw the world very much in terms of black and white; good and evil. What was unusual was the fact that always before, he had thought of the Fire Nation in ambiguous terms. He had heard of their horrible ways every day from the warriors, but had never personalized it. He never felt ashamed of being who he was… until now.

The sound of rough-voiced singing drifted down from the deck. Zuko gave a silent sigh, and tucked the mirror back into its hiding place. From the slightly off-key tones of their voices, the men were probably far into their wine by now. Normally, he counted on himself to be too small and out of the way to be much of a threat even when their ire at the Fire Nation peaked. No one had ever hit him, and the only times he'd been cuffed around the head or ears was when he was too slow to learn a task or when he got frustrated or tired and didn't want to do it.

But he knew with a solid certainty that going up on the deck when the men were drunk and grieving would be a very bad idea.

He couldn't stay here. There was only one other place on the ship he knew he would be safe.

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

It was all Chief Hakoda could do to stagger himself back up to his cabin at the end of that long, long night. Tomorrow, he knew, he would be cursing himself for letting his warriors drink themselves stupid. The mist collectors wouldn't be able to provide nearly enough water to cure an aching head, and there had been no food to sop up any of the alcohol.

He also knew, though, that a man sometimes just needed to grieve. His men were warriors, not women, and sometimes a man just needed a drink to come to terms with what was tearing him up inside.

Hakoda was thinking these things, and mentally excusing his own behavior now to get ready for the ache tomorrow, when he nearly tripped over a small bundle lying in the middle of his cabin. The Chief made an ungraceful leap to the side, and then blinked and grabbed the nearby oil lamp to get a closer look.

The boy, Zuko, was curled up on the floor-mat, asleep.

Hakoda realized, to his shame, that he had not given the boy one thought all night long. He should have kept his eye on him — or ordered Bato to do it. The child was under his protection, but men were angry and hurt at the Fire Nation, and full of wine…

But Zuko had found the one place on the ship where he would be safe.

Smart kid.

Hakoda passed a hand over his face, feeling the bristle of a day's growth there. Spirits, he was tired. So, as quietly as a drunken man could, he walked over to his own cot and tugged off the top fur. This, he draped over the boy. Zuko stirred, but didn't wake up.

The young Chief paused only to tug off his own boots, and then lay down on his own cot; asleep instantly.

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

The next morning, Hakoda's orders were simple and direct: They would continue on their straight path down to the South Pole at top speed. The mist collectors had done their job, and they could ration some water, but the colder the air got, the dryer it became. Although the men set the lines out and trawled small nets behind the ship; fish were scarce in this part of the ocean.

The only extra parka in storage was about five times too big for Zuko's small frame. He felt bulky, and the cold wind got into the extra space between his skin and the blue jacket. Luckily, he was far too taken with the sights around him to care very much about being half frozen.

To Zuko's delight, the occasional peak of white in the waves soon became vast fields floating icebergs and ice-sheets. Their ship either broke through the ice if it was brittle and thin, or went around if it was too large. Some of the icebergs were larger than the ship itself, and Zuko watched them pass with wide eyes. They almost seemed close enough to touch, although when climbed the railing and leaned out to try, he was yelled at by Bato.

Thick snowflakes fell from the sky, either coming in freezing flurries or else ice shavings blown off the nearby giant icebergs. These were fun to catch on his tongue, even though they did little for his raw thirst.

Best of all were the animals that lived in this strange, icy world. Zuko saw things he'd never even imagined before; Turtle-seals, cat-penguins, and giant blue orca. At each one of these sightings he would run over to one of the men, tug on his sleeve, and point, demanding to be told what it was. Most of them indulged his request, and offered some additional information as well. Zuko soon found out which animals were worth eating.

Then, on the morning of the third day, they finally made land.

Zuko knew it was coming. The warriors didn't tell him directly, but he could see the anticipation on their faces, and the way their steps became lighter. Finally, someone called out that he had spotted the village and at once Zuko rushed to the port-railing to take a look. The men had talked of their South Pole home every day, and he his imaginative mind had come up with a sprawling ice-palace guarded by ferocious polar-dogs. A place that would be hard, but enduring.

What he saw instead was nothing more was a small camp-like village. Zuko could only count a little more than the top of dozen bumpy snow structures. They were all clustered together behind a simple wall of ice and snow.

"It's not much, is it?"

He glanced over in surprise to see Bato by his side. The warrior had joined him without his noticing, and had correctly read the disappointment in his eyes.

"A hundred years ago, before the war, we had a vast city to rival our brothers in the North." Bato's grip tightened on the railing, "Now, our waterbenders are gone. Our people are scattered around the continent. This is all that's left." He looked down, meeting Zuko's wide golden eyes, and gave a smile that was both wistful and sad. "Go pack your things. We'll be pulling in, soon."

With a nod, Zuko drew back from the railing. Suddenly, he found himself feeling unsure. As far as he was concerned, his entire life had been on this ship. Now he was facing something wholly different on land… he wasn't sure what to do. Would the rest of the Water Tribe hate him? How could they not? His people destroyed their city.

Zuko's unease only grew once the ship floated to a stop. People were pouring from the village — women clutching babies, young toddlers clutching their mother's shins, and old people walking with slow jerky steps. He could see no kids around his age, and certainly no one that looked like him.

The bottom hatch of the ship opened, and at once the men swarmed out, and with glad cries the two groups met with each other. There was hugging, kissing… excited exclamations. Zuko stood to the side of it all, clutching a small sack with his two or three possessions, drowning in a parka much too large for him, feeling lost.

Suddenly, he heard his name being called. He looked over and saw Chief Hakoda wave him over. He was standing with two children — the only two children close to Zuko's age in the village — on either side of him. They looked like the picture of a perfect family, only instead of where a mother would be, an aged woman stood instead, just apart from the rest.

"Kids," said Hakoda, as Zuko walked up. "This is Zuko. We found him on a Fire Nation ship, and he's going to be staying in the village for a while."

The boy, just as tall as Zuko himself, with is father's deep blue eyes and his hair pulled back on top and shaved at the sides, stared at him. "What happened to your face?"

"Sokka!" admonished the old woman.

Zuko gave a half shrug, awkwardly reaching up to touch the tough skin on his left side, as if to brush it away. Of course, he never could.

Hakoda answered on behalf of him. "We're not sure, and he can't tell us. When we found him, his throat was cut, and he's now a mute." Then he addressed Zuko, "This is my son, Sokka, and this little lady is my daughter, Katara." At the mention of her name, Katara, who looked about a year younger than Sokka, ducked her head behind her father. She was frightened of the boy and all of his scars. "And this is Kana. She leads the women of our tribe."

The old woman pulled a tight, slightly skeletal smile across her features. Her eyes were watchful and suspicious behind their kindness. "You must be freezing in that coat. Come with me, child. We'll get you something that better fits you."

She shuffled back to the village, and Zuko followed her. He glanced over his shoulder once, at the Chief, and saw that he was on his knees and was addressing his children at their level. All three of them were smiling happy. A family reunited.

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

The next day broke late for the entire village. Zuko was the first one up, rising with the sun as was his habit. His stomach was still uncomfortably full — the entire Tribe had feasted last night at the return of their warriors, and Zuko had tried to catch up for two days of missed meals in one sitting.

He went outside, and walked a little ways away from the tents and igloos. The morning air was cold — colder than he was sure he'd ever felt before, and he shivered under his thick parka. His breath streamed out of him, visible long after it left his lungs. But the sun was rising, and although the light it cast was pale and watery over the snow, stepping into the light somehow made him feel better.

Yesterday he had been too hungry, and then after he'd eaten, too tired to really take a look around the place. He did so now. The ship had come in from the north, and out there was only rolling sea-ice. The east and west both extended far outward as jagged coast. There wasn't any beach — the ever present ice and snow just simply stopped and the water began. Finally, Zuko looked south and saw the outline of a vast mountain range. Morning clouds were rolling in between at least five different peaks, plunging down in a living stream to the valley where they dissipated before reaching the coast. It was a beautiful land, and even though he had no memories from his life before, he knew it was unlike anything he had ever seen.

The sun was climbing higher now, and the snow reflected its brightness, making it almost painful to look too far out. He shielded his eyes, put his head down against the freezing morning breeze, and continued walking away from the main village; past the back opening where the ice walls left a ten foot gap on either side.

Once he judged himself far enough away, he folded his legs and sat down in the snow. The top layer was crunchy with ice, and Zuko started digging around, finding quickly that underneath was powdery and soft. He ate some to soothe his morning thirst, and started digging a hole in the deep snow. He had the idea yesterday to make a fort for himself; a place of his own.

Presently, his fingers became sore from cold, and he stopped and looked up just in time to see a long shadow behind him. Zuko would have yelped in surprise if he had the capability to do so. He spun about, but the low sun had thrown the shadow long, and it was not a giant Fire Nation soldier behind him, but the girl, Katara.

For her part, she was just as started, and fell backwards into the snow with a squeak of surprise.

For a moment the Fire Nation boy and the Water Tribe girl looked at each other, as if sizing the other up. She had the same coloring as all the others, but there was something about her that was… softer. Prettier. She also wore her long hair differently than anyone he'd ever seen before, with two beaded loops tucked behind each ear.

Then, Katara spoke. "Gran-Gran says that if you're digging around, you should have mittens." From her parka, she withdrew a set of three fingered seal-hide mittens and carefully handed them over, withdrawing her own hand the second Zuko made his grab, as if he'd burn her.

He hadn't noticed, but the rest of the Water Tribe were starting to rise for the day. Zuko could see vague shapes back at the village, working against the bright lit snow. He nodded, and pulled the mittens.

Katara too, looked back at the village and she hesitated as if she wanted to go back there, but something made her stay. Instead of going back, she inched closer.

"Do you miss your mom and dad?"

The question seemed to come out of nowhere. He had been asked it before by the men, but it had been worded differently and had been mostly without compassion. Unexpectedly, Zuko felt a lump grow in his throat — not for his parents, for in truth he didn't remember anything about them. It was just that he had come to see the warriors on the ship as sort of family. Yes, some were surly, but some were kinder and had taken time out of their own work to teach him. He had known that life. Literally, it was all he knew. Now, it felt like he was starting all over again on land with different people.

Last night, Kana had given him over to one of the other women, Auya, to house. Auya hadn't been happy about it; Zuko saw it in her eyes. She had set him up in their family tent, but had mostly ignored him cast suspicious glances at him all night long. She had also, he noticed, slept with a knife by her pillow. Plus she had a newborn baby that required her constant care. It had mewed all night long, and he hadn't gotten any sleep. At least on the ship, he had his own small room… well, at least until the Fire Nation soldier destroyed it.

So Zuko shook his head to her question, but wanted to elaborate. He drew out the characters in the snow. "_I miss being on the ship."_

"Oh." Katara ventured a look past him, and moved a bit closer. "Why are you digging a hole?"

He scowled. It wasn't a hole. It was a fort.

"That'll take forever if you do it that way." Katara's lips curved into a mischievous grin. Apparently forgetting her fear, she crawled over, sitting by Zuko at the edge of his creation. "Just do this." Then, raising both arms, she made a downward scooping motion.

The snow responded instantly, following her movements, a large portion dug itself out and piled neatly along the side.

Zuko's light gold eyes widened. Katara was a waterbender!

She giggled at his reaction, a light blush highlighting her dark cheeks. He gestured excitedly for her to do it again, and she did. Shortly, Zuko had a deep circular hole for his fort, a little deeper than an arm length.

He set about packing the excess snow into high ridges around the depression. In his mind's eye this would be the start of what would be towering walls which, in its grand design, would keep everyone he didn't like, out. Katara watched him for a few moments, and once she got the idea she started working on the opposite end. Maybe it was her affinity with water, but her walls ended up being twice as high as his and neatly packed. Zuko's looked more like rounded lumps.

"You know, your house is going to need furs in it or else it'll get really cold at night."

Again, Zuko scowled. _Not a house_. he wrote in the snow, _A fort._

"Well it's gonna need furs." She paused, smoothing out the rough edge of her wall. The snow under her hand turned to liquid and then froze again into ice as hard as rock. "I'll get some from Gran Gran." It wasn't a question, and after a moment's consideration, Zuko shrugged. A proper fort, he knew, allowed no girls. But he was cold now even with the sun shining on his back… he didn't want to think about how bitter it would be at night.

_Fine, _he wrote,_ Just don't girl it up._

Katara grinned and promised that she wouldn't.

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

Later that week, Kana sought out the advice of Hakoda. The young Chief was overseeing the sharpening of the harpoons and long-reach spears. It was mid-fall, and the Blue Orca migration would be at its peak soon. He estimated that they would need to take two animals to last out the winter… the year before, they had needed three. The Fire Nation raid in the spring had killed many people.

Seeing the old woman approach, Hakoda signaled for Bato to step into his place and walked over to meet her. "Is something wrong?"

Kana smiled up at him and shook her head. "No, but I need to have a talk with you. Hakoda, walk with me."

As his mother and also as the eldest woman, Kana had a special place in their Tribe. She was looked too as the repository of all of their wisdom, and in certain things she could overrule even Hakoda. It was very rare when she exercised this, or indeed used her rank at all. So when she asked for him to stop what he was doing and talk to her, he was intrigued, and instantly did as she said.

They walked side by side along the ice-coast. For some minutes, Kana didn't speak. She seemed to be gathering her thoughts, and would only share them when she was ready. Finally she said: "I quizzed the children on geography today."

Hakoda nodded. Normally, Kana and a woman helper taught all of the children several times a week in between chores.

"How are Sokka and Katara doing?" he asked.

"Fine… fine. Sokka is doing exceptionally well. He's a bright boy, Hakoda. All grandmothers should be as blessed."

He sensed there was something else behind her words. "But?"

"But then I quizzed Zuko." Kana stopped in her tracks, tilting her head up towards her son in law. The pale sun cast shadow's upon every line on her face, making her look very grave. "The boy can't speak, poor thing, but he was able to write in the snow. Hakoda, he knew every providence in the Earth Kingdom, as well as the major cities. He writes very well, in both the standard and the classical forms. I haven't yet tested in him mathematics, but I don't have a doubt he'll do fine there as well."

Hakoda was silent. He had the feeling he knew where this was going, and while he didn't like it, he respected Kana enough to state her piece.

"If this is how they are educating the children of the Fire Nation, we may have a real problem on our hands."

"They teach their children these things because they expect them to help invade the Earth Kingdom when they get older."

Kana nodded at this, agreeing. "And there's more. Katara… she needs a Waterbending Master."

They had this conversation before, and he was well versed on the subject. "But you've said yourself the Masters of the North will only teach her healing, not bending."

"This is true, but I wasn't suggesting going to the North." she paused, "Are you certain, completely certain, that there is no one to teach Katara?"

Hakoda did not answer her for a long time. He turned to the west, and in the distance he could see a lazy trail of smoke that stamped out what remained of their village. A pinched, haunted look came over his handsome features, and he ducked his head. "It wasn't an accident how the Fire Nation found our village. They knew I was looking for a Waterbending master. They knew we still had hope." Of course, no one could ever be sure that this was the reason they were attacked, but Hakoda felt this deep in his bones. This was his one shame… a shame he vowed he would never tell his children. His throat thickened, his next words choked with unshed tears. "They took my wife, because of me."

"Hakoda—"

He waved off her words almost angrily, turning away. "Katara will have to teach herself."

Kana bowed her head, accepting her son's words for what they were: the decision of the Tribe's Leader. Hakoda couldn't afford to think like a father. His burden was to protect the entire tribe. "She has no choice."

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

Katara, Zuko found, was very bossy, and once she got something into her head she didn't let it go. But unlike her brother, she seemed to like being around him; insisting that he take most of his meals with her, and patiently explaining how to do some of the needed chores around the village.

They worked on the fort during their free time, with Katara using some of the few bending skills she knew to enlarge the hole and strengthen the walls with ice. To Zuko's chagrin, it became as much her fort his — although he absolutely drew the line at letting her keep her dolls inside.

Her brother, Sokka, was mostly an elusive figure. Zuko would often catch him glaring narrow-eyed at him during meals, and during Kana's lessons. His surly, unapproachable nature made Zuko assume at first that he was a grumpy loner; completely the opposite of his bright, kind sister. Only later would he realize that this was by far the exception to Sokka's moods, and not the rule.

Hakoda had said that Sokka would teach him how to use the boomerang, and Zuko was eager to learn. He tried approaching the other boy on several occasions, pointing first to his boomerang, and then to Sokka's, but Sokka would just scowl and then walk away.

One day, determined that that he would learn, Zuko decided to follow Sokka; haunt him until the other boy finally gave in and taught him.

He didn't expect for Sokka to be so quick on the uptake. As soon as he knew what was going on, and that Zuko wouldn't leave him alone, he went to the outer snow-drifts beyond the village. Although he couldn't bend his element, Sokka moved through the snowdrifts like they were nothing but a well-worn forest path. He was completely at ease out in the thick snow and sub-zero temperatures. Zuko bumbled along as best he could, trying to follow in his footsteps, but he sank to his hips with each step and soon Sokka was out of sight. When he could no longer feel his toes, Zuko had to admit defeat and return to the village or else risk getting lost and frozen.

Zuko had his own tricks up his sleeve. Although he didn't know it, he had dealt with a master manipulator all of his life. He didn't remember any of it, but some of the innate skills stayed with him. He knew Sokka was like the water, and it was his nature to find the path of least resistance and plan around things to come at them from another way. It was Zuko's nature to confront, strike first, and keep going until he won.

Unfortunately, he didn't expect the confrontation to happen when it did.

It was a day like any other. He and Katara were working on their fort. They were busy building up another wall outside the main perimeter. Zuko had written to her in snowy sentences how the great city of Ba Sing Se was surrounded by a double-set of walls. How they were so high that some birds couldn't fly to the top, and how they were so strong that they and they kept even the Fire Nation out.

She decided that this was a great idea, and they should copy it. He set about using a piece of rope anchored to the middle of the fort to trace out a rough circle all the way around. She was gathering snow into bunches using her limited bending to push the snow together and then piling it up by hand.

They looked up at the same time to see Sokka striding over.

"Are you finally done sulking?" Katara called, almost cheerfully continuing to pack snow.

Sokka came to a stop just a few feet from them, a dark look on his face "You shouldn't be playing with him so much." He said, addressing his sister, and ignoring Zuko completely as if he wasn't there.

"You can't tell me what to do." Brushing off her mittens onto her long parka, she stood up, hands on her hips. "You're not dad!"

"Katara," and the look Sokka shot Zuko could have burned him to ash. "He's Fire Nation!"

Something hot and angry settled in Zuko's heart, and he stood up, clenching his fists.

"He's not like them!" yelled Katara.

"How do you know?"

"I just…" she glanced over at Zuko in a particular friendly way, causing a warm blush to highlight the unscarred areas of his face and neck. "I just do."

"They killed mom!" yelled Sokka, his voice cracking, "and you're just playing with him like it's all okay! Well, it's not! It's not right!"

Zuko wanted with all of his heart to yell at this boy, to tell him exactly what he thought: The Fire Nation attacked him once, too, and he didn't want to be anything like them.

Of course, he couldn't, and this wasn't the time or place to be scrawling his thoughts out in the snow. Zuko turned to Katara, wondering what she'd day, and found that her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

Another flash of anger, and something snapped in Zuko. He did the next logical thing, at least, in his eyes. He stomped over and shoved Sokka, hard.

The other boy stepped back, and an ugly look crossed his features before he returned the shove with another one of his own.

Zuko grabbed Sokka's wrist, and swung at him with his other hand. It hit Sokka wide, just across the shoulder. Sokka roared like an enraged lion-dillo, and took him down in a tackle. Then they were on the ground; fighting, punching, kicking.

It was a mostly equal match, with both boys being about the same weight and build. Sokka clocked Zuko hard across his good eye, and Zuko aimed a kick that landed just to the right of the other boy's groin. Neither one could easily get the upper hand over the other; although they tried. They rolled over and over, swinging at each other when they had enough space.

Katara was screaming at both of them to stop. Stop right now! She kicked snow at the thrashing boys, and as her anger and panic grew the snow and ice around them responded in kind: rolling, bucking, and waving in time with her cries.

"Stop it! I'm… I'm telling Gran Gran!" Katara screamed.

The snow under Sokka and Zuko melted and then reformed again instantly as ice, locking their bodies firmly in place mid-combat, with only their heads free. Sokka, on top, and about to lay into Zuko again, yelped in surprise. "Cut it out, Katara!"

But his sister had already run off, crying, and completely unaware of what she had just done.

"Ugh!" groaned Sokka, dropping his head in exasperation, "She has officially gone from weird to freakish."

Zuko glared up at him, but he was frozen in place, and couldn't speak his thoughts anyway.

After a long moment, the Water Tribe boy gave a long sigh, and did his best to shift, trying to break free of the ice encasing. "See if you can move to the right and I'll move to the left. Maybe we can sort of twist out," he directed. "No, my right! Your left."

Both boys strained and the brittle ice finally gave way with a sharp crack. They fell to the side, and rolled, each not wanting to be in contact with the other anymore. They were hardly free, for ragged chunks of ice still encased their feet and stuck to the fur of their parkas. It took the boys a few minutes of pounding the ice on a nearby rock (and low whispered cursing, in Sokka's case) to get free.

About that time, Kana showed up.

The old woman had expected something like this to happen for the last few days. She knew her grandson well, and had seen the anger in his young face whenever Katara and the Fire Nation boy played together. He had been unusually withdrawn, and even though she was sure he was trying not to show it — he grieved for his lost mother terribly.

Now she came upon the sight of the two boys sitting together, not talking, but diligently ridding themselves of ice side-by-side. Sokka's bottom lip was split, and Zuko's unscarred eye was puffy and looking like it would blacken tonight.

They glanced up at her arrival, and she caught a flash of twin looks of guilt.

"Sokka, can you tell me why your sister ran into the tent crying? Have you two been fighting?" she asked, although it was more than obvious that they had.

"No Gran Gran. We were…" he looked around for inspiration, "we were playing hide 'n freeze." He held up his sleeve, to which a bit of frozen snow was attached.

Kana raised one disbelieving eyebrow. "Is this true, Zuko?"

The other boy's unscarred eye widened, and he glanced at her, and then for a long moment at Sokka, before he nodded his head vigorously.

For his part, Sokka seemed surprised, but then nodded himself. "See? Katara just got all excited. We were just playing, Gran Gran."

Kana pursed her lips. Both of them were lying, and badly. But Kana had been long in the world, and she had seen generations of boys grow up. The fact of it was that they sometimes needed to settle their differences physically in a fight. Seeing Sokka and Zuko together now, she was strongly reminded of another scene just like it some thirty years ago… young Hakoda and Bato hadn't gotten along either when they were young, if she remembered correctly. Only when they had gotten half stuck in a frozen bog, and worked their way out of the mess together, had they become the best of friends. Perhaps the same would happen now. If she felt either Zuko or Sokka was needlessly picking on the other, things would be different. Hopefully, if she left them alone, they would work out what the needed to work out.

But there was no excuse for the lying. Sokka, at least, knew better.

"I see," she said at last, pinning them both down with a hard look. "Next time you decide to scare your sister in this way, you should remember what a frightened bender can do. For upsetting her, you two will not have dinner tonight."

Sokka gave a groan. "Gran—"

"No arguing, young man. You're still not too old for me to switch your bottom."

Her grandson's jaw closed with a snap, and his cheeks colored in embarrassment. Kana made sure to meet eyes with Zuko, silently letting him know that that threat went for him too, before turning around and shuffling back to the tent. Hopefully, Katara would have calmed down from her hysterics enough to be able to help with dinner.

Once Kana was safely out of sight, Sokka gingerly put a hand to his aching jaw. "You hit pretty good." He said, begrudgingly.

Zuko's own eye was hurting fiercely, and he knew that he was going to look ridiculous for the next few days with one eye blackened and the other one scarred in a permanent glare.

Perhaps it was the adrenalin from the fight, but for the first time he felt hot under his parka. With a tired nod, he laid flat on his back against the cold snow. He and Sokka had rolled around while fighting, and hand taken out a good portion of the outer wall of the fort. All of his day's work had been ruined.

"I can't believe that I don't get to eat tonight. I've never not eaten." Sokka cast a disparaging glare in Zuko's direction, and muttered under his breath. "Stupid Fire Nation."

Zuko sat up, and considered, just for a moment, punching Sokka again. But he believed Kana's threat, and he didn't want to be switched. He clenched his fists, instead, wanting to yell at the other boy. He couldn't. So he did the next best thing, and wrote angrily in the snow.

_I __hate__ the Fire Nation._ He put particular emphasis on the word.

Sokka leaned over to read, and then cast him a dubious look. "No you don't. How can you hate what you are?"

_I don't remember being Fire Nation. I just remember waking up on the ship._

The other boy seemed to consider this for a moment before he nodded, wisely. "That's probably why you haven't tried to kill us, yet, because you don't remember being like them." Then he fixed him with a hard look. "Is that how you got that scar? Did they do that to you?"

_I don't know. Probably. _

Sokka's mouth pressed into a thin, angry line before he winced again, touching his split lip. "They're monsters." He muttered, and Zuko got the feeling that he wasn't really talking to him. "They… they killed two of my cousins last spring… and my mom. It's what they do. They just hate and kill."

The only thing Zuko could do was nod, because it was true… because he had seen it for himself. The Fire Nation soldier on the ship had wanted to kill him for nothing more than existing. He was just a kid, and if Hakoda hadn't been there… he'd be dead.

The two boys were silent; alone in their own thoughts. Sokka's were sad, remembering a mother murdered by a nation he had sworn to hate. Zuko's were equally sad, in their own way, hating the way he looked, and wondering deep down inside if he was just as bad as the people who birthed him.

Finally the Water Tribe boy sighed, picking up some snow and tossing it uselessly in a random direction. "I'm already hungry." he announced.

A thought crossed Zuko's mind, and he grinned. Standing up, he tugged on Sokka's sleeve and gestured for him to follow. He had decided the other day to dig out little cubby-holes in the deep walls of the fort. He went in now, and found (to his disgust) that Katara had snuck in some of her dolls anyway. Shoving those away, and ignoring Sokka's snicker, he found a package wrapped in seaweed in the back of the deepest cubby: Seal Jerky.

Sokka's blue eyes widened, and for the first time a grin came over his face. "Maybe you aren't so bad after all." allowed Sokka, after taking a proffered piece.

The two boys sat and ate, and Zuko quickly found that the best way to earn Sokka's friendship was through his stomach.

 

* * *

**OoOoOoOoO**


	3. One Voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by: Quater Comet! http://quatercomet.deviantart.com/art/Another-Brother-AU-95941909

[ ** ** ](http://quatercomet.deviantart.com/art/Another-Brother-AU-95941909)

 

 

 

**OoOoOoOoO**

During the meeting, I was the _perfect_ prince. The son my father wanted. But I wasn't me.

_\- Zuko, Nightmares and Daydreams_

**OoOoOoOoO**

 

The next few weeks were some of the busiest Zuko had ever known. The short artic summer was passing, and soon winter would be upon them. It was becoming fall, and for the people of the Water Tribe it meant that every spare hour of daylight was needed to hunt and gather. Even the children's classroom time was put aside. Every hand was put to work, preparing against the months of total darkness to come.

The men went out on their annual whaling trip, leaving their women and the children to gather what they could. And gather, they did. Zuko received a crash course on how to paddle a simple canoe, and he and Sokka were often set out to the small inlet bay to haul up nets and nets of small silver fish, each as big as a finger. Artic kelp was also harvested, and this had to be rolled in fresh snow afterward to get rid of the salt.

All of it was then taken to the tribe's smokehouse to be cured and saved for later. The elderly, or those too infirm to move far, stoked the great fire and constantly added wet branches keep the smokehouse smoky.

One day, Zuko was pulled off his canoeing duty by Kana, and joined Sokka and Katara while they were sent out to pick the last of the season's berries. The tribe preferred to live on one of the permanent ice-shelves, as close to their watery element as possible, but a short hike to the south and the ice gave way to frozen land. Tangled brambles and dried-out weeds dotted the landscape, but if Zuko shielded his eyes from the sun and looked further on, he could see the outline of what was a great forest — the source of logs for all the great ships under Chief Hakoda's command.

He followed the siblings as they moved through the brambles at an easy pace, picking what he could, and being mindful of the sharp thorns that would sting at him even though tough seal-hide mittens.

Katara and Sokka were bickering back and forth. They often did this, and while it had worried him at first, Zuko had eventually realized that while Sokka and Katara sometimes became harsh with one another, neither one of them ever got hurt.

But when they were really going at it, they usually forgot their silent companion.

Sometimes Katara would turn and ask him a question (especially when she was trying to emphasize a point to Sokka), and Zuko would either nod yes or no or shrug… but he was never fully involved in their conversation. Both siblings were quick-witted, and their words were ever so much faster than what he could ever do by writing in the snow. So Zuko could never voice his true opinion. He could just watch their fight and feel like the outcast he was — separate from the tribe by his nation, his skin, and his disability.

"You have to wait until you're ten for a reason, Sokka," Katara was saying, with as much disdain in her voice as possible. "Blue Orca's can eat people. You don't want to get eaten, do you?"

Her brother shrugged and kicked at a mound of snow. He wasn't doing much berry-picking, because he was still too busy sulking over being left behind by the men while they went whaling. "I'd be fine. I'd be with dad."

"Stop being a baby. You'll just go next year, and dad promised he'd take you ice-fishing after they got back, remember?"

"Well they could have made an exception for me." Sokka grabbed half-heartedly at a sprig of berries and tossed them into his basket. "I did guard all of you while all the men were gone, didn't I?"

Katara simply rolled her eyes at that and glanced over to check his work. "'C'mon, Sokka! Me and Zuko already filled our baskets. Yours is only half full."

Naturally, Sokka did the exact opposite of what his little sister wanted, and put his basket down. "I don't even eat these things. Only women like berries. I eat meat, like a man."

Behind them, Zuko straitened sent a glare at the other boy. He had, at that very moment, been popping a handful of mealy berries in his mouth. But of course, his thoughts could never be expressed, and the two siblings were far too involved in their discussion to take notice.

"Fine," said Katara, "I guess me and Zuko will have to penguin-sled all by ourselves, then."

This earned her a quick look from both boys — derision from her brother, and confusion for Zuko's part, for he hadn't seen a penguin yet, much less thought about sledding on one.

"You didn't— we don't have time…" Sokka began, but was silenced immediately when Katara pulled out three small fish from one of her pockets.

Curious, Zuko put down his own basket and walked over. He plucked at Katara's fur-lined sleeve and pointed to the fish, asking for an explanation. Her eyes, though, were centered with her brother in a silent match of wills. Finally Sokka gave an indifferent shrug and once again picked up his basket. "I guess we could," he allowed, "since Zuko's probably never been. But I get to pick where we sled. You always pick the stupid runs."

"Okay," she chirped, returning the small fish to her pocket.

Zuko looked from one sibling to another, feeling a bite of impatience. But they returned back to their berry picking, neither apparently feeling the need to explain what penguin-sledding actually was. He gave a silent sigh and stomped back over to his own basket. He _hated_ not being able to talk.

 

**OoOoOoOoO**

 

"We're almost there!" Sokka called. The fierce wind carried his words away in an instant, and if Zuko not been only a few feet behind, he might not have heard them at all. "Just keep going!"

Zuko reached up to readjust his hood — he had already lost feeling in his unburned ear from the cold, and tightened his grip on the penguin. The animal was at least warm, and lay passively in his arms, apparently content to be carried up to a crazy height and be ridden upon on the way down. Behind him, Katara clutched at her own penguin, a grim sort of look on her young face.

Sokka was actually having the worst of it. In his zeal, he had picked a penguin that was nearly the size of himself, and was struggling to march it up the snowy hill.

Actually_ hill_ wasn't the right word for it. As they came to the top, a few other choice terms came to Zuko's mind; precipice, mountain, death-trap. It was a sharp descent that went further down than he could even see. The very snow seemed to glint with malice, as if daring them to try their hand.

"This is your idea of a sled-run?" Katara demanded, turning to her brother. The sharp winter wind whipped at her hair loopies, making them flop crazily about her face.

Sokka didn't dignify that with a response, and set his penguin down belly first. "This is the best sled-run ever. You're just being a scaredy cat-chicken," he said, but made no move to slide off the edge.

"Oh yeah, well why aren't you going down there, oh brave warrior?"

They started to bicker again, and Zuko thought he could just scream from frustration. He was wet and cold. The freezing wind made his eyes water, and as he glanced down he thought that it had to be less windy at the bottom, if not warmer.

And now both Katara and Sokka had their voices raised, snapping back and forth words that were whipped away in an instant by the freezing wind. Zuko couldn't take it anymore. He shoved between Katara and Sokka, cutting their argument off short. Then, copying Sokka's move, he laid his penguin down on its belly and climbed on.

"Zuko, what are you doing?" Katara began, but it was too late. He had already kicked off, and in a moment he was gone.

The two Water Tribe siblings looked at each other, and then with a mutual shrug, got on their penguins. After all, even Katara had to admit that there was a bit of pride at stake. Neither one of them was going to be shown up by the Fire Nation kid on their own turf. With one deep breath they too kicked off and headed down the steep mountain.

The first few seconds of Zuko's first penguin-sledding ride were some of the most terrifying in his life. He was no longer cold — he was too scared to be cold. He whipped down the mountain at speeds he'd only dreamt of — the few bushes and rocks that were tall enough to peek out of the deep snow flashed by at a blur, and all he could see ahead of him was snow and the steep angle of the steep mountain-side.

Then he realized that he was safe, for he wasn't alone. He was on top of a penguin. Its sleek feathers cut through the snow like the sharpest of knives, gliding effortlessly over and around all obstacles. It was an old bird, and this was not its first time being ridden. It swerved this way and that, keeping himself and the child safe.

And with the fear gone, pure exhilaration took its place. Zuko grinned against the stinging wind, and would have whooped for joy if he had the capability. He turned behind him and saw that Sokka and Katara were following some fifty-feet away. But he was the one cutting the trail, and they were so far behind they'd never catch up. He gripped the penguin's feathers, silently urging it faster.

But there was a shrill voice on the wind. Again Zuko glanced back and saw Sokka waving desperately at him, trying to get his attention. He was pointing ahead, and when Zuko looked his heart felt like it dropped down to his stomach.

Just down the mountain slope was a steep curve. The path to the right led to safety. Straight ahead and to the left looked to be a sheer drop off.

Oh no.

The penguin didn't seem to see what he saw, and Zuko tugged on its feathers and pounded on its right shoulder, trying to get the thing to turn. But the cliff was looming close now, and out of panic Zuko looked back one more time for help... As if in slow motion he saw Katara's lovely face, clearly saw her fear for him… and then she turned away as the penguin she was riding turned to safety. Zuko's plowed straight ahead and he faced forward again just time to see the bottom of the world drop out from under him.

He had sometimes wondered what it would feel like to actually fly like the airbenders of legend, and for a spare second it actually felt like he was. He penguin had been sliding so fast that the simply arced out, and out…

Then gravity kicked in and they were falling. Zuko's mouth opened in a silent scream. He flailed and kicked away from the penguin, somehow knowing that if they landed together the bird would be crushed under him. The drop seemed to last forever, although it only about twenty feet or so. Then he landed in the soft snow, and rolled over and over, throwing up a shower of brilliant white snow.

He ended up on his back, arms and legs out. At first he thought that surely he was dead, and he waited for darkness to hit him. It didn't, of course, and after a few seconds he blinked and shook his head. The impact had rattled every bone in his body, although nothing felt like it was hurting…

"Zuko!"

"Zuko!"

Katara and Sokka came skidding to a stop beside him, having taken the more roundabout, sane way down the mountain. They rushed over, and Katara helped him sit up.

Instantly, Zuko gagged. It felt like something had lodged itself deep in his throat, around his neck scar. Zuko gagged again and coughed hard once, twice, three times, turning on all fours. Helpfully, Sokka pounded on his back.

Whatever it was came loose. Zuko swallowed hard, tasting both metallic blood and sour pus. His throat burned from inside around the scar. But it was a strange, good kind of pain. Like the pain of removing a festering splinter. He spat on the snow, and it came out both red and green. "Ugh."

Then he stopped and looked up at his friends. His light gold eyes were wide in surprise.

"Did you just…" Katara began. She had backed away at first, thinking that Zuko was about to throw up, but instantly she was at his side again, helping him get to his feet.

Zuko tried again. "Yes—" his voice was distorted, and he coughed again sharply into his hand, and spat, clearing the last of the blockage out. This time when he spoke his voice was normal — or as normal as it was ever going to get. There would always be a certain scratchy quality to it, and a hint of a lisp. But he would never again be forced to sit silently on the side, accidentally ostracized by muteness. "I can talk!" then, proudly, he said it again, just because he could. "I can talk!"

Katara grinned and threw her arms around him in a quick hug. "How is that possible?"

"I… I'm not sure." It felt strange to voice his thoughts, and when Katara stepped back, he absently rubbed at his neck. "It felt like something in my throat got knocked out when I landed."

Sokka, meanwhile, was less concerned with the why or how, but rather the result. He was practically preening. "I _told_ you that was the best sled-run ever. You're welcome, by the way." He stepped forward, throwing a friendly arm about Zuko's shoulders. "So… do you wanna go again? Maybe you'll knock some memories loose this time."

"Sokka!" Katara glared at her brother, hands on her hips. "He could have broken his neck!"

"He didn't, did he? It just fixed him," he shot back, and then turned to Zuko, addressing him like an equal for nearly the first time in their brief relationship. "What do you say? First one down the hill wins? And no shortcuts this time."

Zuko looked back at the tall cliff and gulped painfully. That was probably the most horrible short-cut he'd ever taken. But he knew Sokka well enough now to see that the other boy was sort of testing him. There was no way he was going to back down. Not now. "Sure," he said, to Katara's obvious disgust. But Zuko felt fine — more than fine, and when he spat again as an experiment it came out clear. He looked around for his make-shift sled and saw it standing some way off, half of its feathers ruffled up and sticking the wrong way. "I think I'll need a new penguin, though."

 

**OoOoOoOoO**

 

Zuko now had a voice in the world around him, but it didn't mean that anything had really changed. There were still chores to be done: Food had to be gathered for the upcoming winter, and vital skills needed to be learned. But with each passing day, Zuko set his mind to his tasks. He set himself to learn as much as he could about his new life here, because now that he could talk he hated asking for help — most of the time it was only given grudgingly by the adults. He didn't any natural skills for what they considered to be the basics, and sometimes when Zuko was feeling the most frustrated he cursed his old life — whatever it had been — and wondered if he had been good at anything back in the Fire Nation.

But he was determined to see out any task assigned. More importantly, he never gave up. And he learned… sometimes only through trial and error, but it was still learning. Each passing day was better than the last, and he knew that one day he would be just as good as all the others at fishing, and cutting line, and skinning, and all the rest.

He grew stronger too. The fever that had so racked his body on the ship had gone. Healer Kuthruk examined him, and his newly unblocked throat, and declared him as fit as any other youngster — aside from the scarring on his face and neck.

The men returned from their whaling rip soon after that, and it was a sweet moment for Zuko to clasp his hands and bow to Chief Hakoda, formally welcoming him back with a strong voice. The Chief's eyes widened, and he ruffled Zuko's hair and claimed that both he and Sokka had grown at least an inch since he saw them last, nearly three weeks ago.

The Chief and his brave men had brought back two whales for the tribe, and the next days were spent slicing thick slabs of meat off the bone, and storing it in the smokehouse and cold-caves for the winter. It was hard, messy work which Zuko would have despised if not for Sokka promising to show him how to make spears out of the remaining whale bone.

He, Zuko, and Katara sat around the fire in Hakoda's hut late one night, four days after the men had returned. The Chief was gone on some kind of meeting which adults found important, but the children found boring.

Zuko often spent much of his time there. Even if the large hut wasn't always warm in temperature, it was warm in spirit. A far cry from Auya's hut. Zuko only went there to sleep, and even then he was the first one up and out by morning.

While the boys worked at sharpening spear-points, Katara worked on her own project — a simple whalebone necklace. She had also gotten it into her head to quiz Zuko on his past life in the Fire Nation for the last hour and a half. She could, perhaps, jog his memory. It would have annoyed him, but she was his first friend he'd made here, and Zuko was nothing if not loyal.

"So, if the sun doesn't stay down all winter, is it always like summer?" Katara asked, blinking her brilliantly blue eyes against the firelight in confusion. Zuko had just told her that the Fire Nation was centered near the equator, so there wasn't any real distinction between the seasons. "How do you know what season it is, then?"

Zuko, who was sharpening his spear-point with a black rock and casually glancing to Sokka to see if he was doing it right, shrugged. "I don't know. The fire sages keep a calendar. Plus, there's always a three day festival during the summer solstice."

She pounced immediately on that, because it was rare when he'd offer something so detailed. "Okay! Think about that, then. Think really, really, _really_ hard. Try to remember the last solstice."

With a sigh, he put down the sharpening rock and squeezed his eyes shut. It was no use. "It's not working."

"But you remember—"

"No, I don't," Zuko said. Katara had been at this for an hour and he was starting to get a headache. "Look, I know the Fire Nation has summer solstice festivals. I know that there's a lot of fire works at night and more fire flakes than you can eat, but I can't picture any of it. It's just… gone."

"Oh." Katara sat, deflated for all of ten seconds before brightening. "Well, you'll just have to think of something else then. There has to be some kind of memory left in there."

"You mean in the big empty space that's Zuko's head?" Sokka chimed in, helpfully.

Zuko shoved him for that, and then passed his spear point over for inspection. "How does this look?"

The other boy gave it the eye of a professional before handing it back. "It needs to be pointier."

They worked in silence for a few minutes, and Zuko was left alone with his thoughts. Where had all of his memories gone, anyway? Were they still there, inside of him? Would he ever get them back? Did he want to get them back?

And what kind of person was he… back then?

He had accidentally voiced this last part out loud, and Katara looked up at him with her compassionate blue eyes. Sokka, though, thought he had answer. "You know what I think?" he asked, and then continued when no one actually said anything, "I think the Fire Nation was going to do something really bad, like attack a whole bunch of helpless people in the Earth Kingdom or something. But Zuko found out, and because he's slightly less evil than the rest of them—"

"Hey!"

"—he tried to stop it. And he did, and for punishment they scarred him and then brainwashed him so you couldn't remember anything."

"That's stupid," Katara declared.

For his part, Zuko agreed, although he did sort of like the fact that he was the hero of the story. "Fine, then how did I get on the Fire Nation ship? Healer Kuthruk told me they found me hiding in a life-raft."

Sokka seemed to think about this for a moment. Then he shrugged. "I don't know."

Zuko sighed and went back to sharpening his spear-point. Sokka's own had a curved edge, like a scythe, and he wanted to copy that.

There was the sound of crunching snow just outside the tent as two sets of feet walked by. This was nothing unusual, but the lowered voices that accompanied it, was. Instantly, it got the children's attention, and with a mutual glance they all slid over to the side of the tent, pressing their ears against the soft blue cloth. Katara stifled a giggle, and Sokka hushed her immediately.

From their position, they could clearly hear the hushed voices of the two speakers. Kana and Auya.

"—don't like it. Not one bit," Auya was saying, "The Tribe has brought him back up to health, and yet he's still here. He has his voice, now, doesn't he?"

They were talking about him. Zuko felt his stomach clench, and behind the children — unseen and unnoticed — the small cooking fire in the center pit of the tent grew brighter.

"Yes," Kana agreed, "he does. But surely, he's no trouble to you, Auya?"

"Trouble?" she let out a single bark of a laugh. "No, except for the fact I can't get any sleep at night. Who could, with Fire Nation blood that in the same tent as me — near my family and my child."

Behind the kids, the fire flared higher.

"He's just a boy. If Hakoda thought him any danger—"

"I know, Kana. Really, I do. But my point is this; the Tribe has done a good thing in bringing him in. It would be unfair to raise him as one of us. He lives with my family, and I know him best. Take him to… to Kyoshi Island. They're soft-hearted, and they'd never treat him wrong for being what he is."

"No…" Katara cried before Sokka slapped a hand over her mouth.

There was a distinct pause, and all the children held their breath, fearing they had been heard. But Kana had merely been considering Auya's request, and finally she said, "I will speak to Hakoda about this. He has told me that the people of Kyoshi value their female children over their boys, but you are right… they would take him in."

Auya replied with something else, but the two women were moving away from the tent now, and were quickly out of hearing range.

Sokka, Katara, and Zuko sat there for a moment unable to move for the lingering fear they'd get caught. Distantly, Zuko realized that Katara had clutched his hand and that Sokka's fingers were digging into his shoulder. He let out a long sigh — the still unnoticed bright fire went down to normal strength — and it almost seemed to release them.

"No, they can't do this!" Katara looked up to her big brother, fingers tightening around Zuko's hand. "Sokka, you gotta go and tell dad that Zuko should stay right here."

Zuko, too, was looking to Sokka. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because Katara trusted him to lead, and so he did as well. "Auya's lying, Sokka. She doesn't know me! She… she doesn't even talk to me!" He wanted to throw something in frustration. Only Katara's tight hold on his hand kept him still. "I don't want to leave!"

Sokka looked at both of them for a moment, and then sighed, turning away to crawl back over and poke at the fire with a stick. For some reason, the flame had eaten though the logs he'd just put on. "Dad always said that Zuko would only be staying with us for awhile."

"But—" Katara started to protest, and was silenced by her brother's swift glare. He wasn't done yet.

"So I can't just go begging to keep him around, because his mind's already made up. He'll just have to see for himself that Zuko is better being Water Tribe then Fire Nation."

"How do I do that?" Zuko asked. He dropped Katara's hand, and paced about in agitation, feeling desperate. He didn't want to leave everyone he knew and be adopted into some Earth Kingdom family. He loved it here. He didn't even mind being cold — so much.

"I don't know," Sokka admitted, poking moodily into the fire. Then suddenly he straightened, smiling. "But I have an idea!" He stood up, "Dad's going to take me ice fishing tomorrow. He promised a few weeks ago, remember? Why don't you come along with us? I can lend you some fish or something when we catch them, and he'll see that you're such a great hunter that he's bound to let you stay."

"Do you really think it will work?"

"'Course. My plans always work. You can ask Katara."

Zuko turned to Katara. She bit her lower lip and nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes they do," she admitted. But her eyes were shining with hope.


	4. Firebender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This adorable fanart is by GreenAppleFreak http://greenapplefreak.deviantart.com/art/Shameless-Bribery-130643818

  

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

“Remember your Breath of Fire! It could save your life out there!”

_~ Iroh, The Siege of The North Part 1_

* * *

 

 

"Zuko, come on!" called Sokka, early the next morning. Shoving the fur-flap door aside, the Water Tribe boy quickly ducked in. "Dad's got the sledge all packed and—" he paused as his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, and he saw what was going on. "Katara, are you playing with his hair?"

"She is _not_ playing with my hair." Zuko was sitting down, both arms and legs crossed, a scowl highlighting the scar on his left side. But Katara was knelt behind him, and there was no doubt about it, she was fixing his raven black hair.

Sokka started laughing, so overcome that he nearly doubled over.

Zuko growled and made to reach for him, but Katara had too good of a hold on his hair and jerked him back.

"Stop it!" she snapped, "I'm almost finished!"

Sokka, of course, couldn't help but twist the knife in further. With a final gasp and a wide grin he sat up. "I should have just had you join Gran-Gran instead of Dad and me… I never thought you'd look so pretty with all those ribbons in your hair."

"_What?!_" Zuko reached up, but his hand was slapped back by Katara.

"Don't! You'll ruin it."

"You promised that you wouldn't put in any ribbons!"

"I didn't." With a final tug — a little harder than was strictly necessary — Katara finished and grabbed a small mirror.

With a good deal of trepidation, Zuko looked. Katara had kept her word. She had pulled his hair from its high phoenix tail on the top of his head further back so it was more in line with the warrior's wolf tail that the Water Tribe men sported. She kept a piece in front out of the band, and had strung two deep blue beads of the Water Tribe colors. He had the scar on one side of his face, and the beads of the Water Tribe on the other. It was strangely appropriate.

"Hmm… he does look less Fire Nationy." Sokka said, in approval. Then he reached down, hauling Zuko up to his feet. "Dad's waiting. It's time to go."

Katara, too, leapt up to her feet. "I wanna go!" She had never before expressed the slightest interest in coming along on an ice-fishing trip. In fact, she still didn't really want to come along, but she was young and she hated to be left behind while the boys had all the fun.

"Sorry Katara." With his hand still firmly around Zuko's arm, Sokka started to drag him out. "This is a trip for men only. No girls allowed."

She pouted, and Zuko turned, hesitating, not wanting to be as dismissive as her brother. But Sokka was tugging hard on his arm, and he had to go.

"Sorry Katara," he echoed, before he was pulled outside.

It was still very early. The sun had just risen over the far eastern horizon, and the air was thick with fog and pale wintery shadows. Off in the distance, Zuko could hear the high whine of polar-dogs, and the scrape of nails against ice.

Sokka pulled him in that direction, and in a few moments they could see Hakoda, a solid figure in the elusive frozen fog. He was bending over and running lines of hemp rope from the polar-dog's harnesses to the main sledge. His team of five polar-dogs yelped and whined in excitement, leaping back and forth against the ropes, but the sledge's brakes were down and the craft held steady.

Sensing the boys approach, Hakoda straightened and turned. Zuko saw him give a pause over his new appearance, and he caught a small nod and a gleam of approval in his blue eyes.

"We're nearly ready to go, boys. Sokka, show Zuko how to get in the sledge. You'll be in front, and he'll be to the back."

"Okay Dad!" And abruptly Sokka jerked Zuko to the side.

The sledge itself was a longly shaped contraption balanced on two rails that stuck out several feet in the front and the back. The driver either ran along between the rails, or else rested by standing on them while the polar-dogs pulled. The basket itself was neatly packed with fishing poles and blankets to the sides, and covering furs in the middle. At Sokka's direction, Zuko sat himself down with his back braced against rear of the sledge.

Sokka's eyes were bright with excitement, and his easy confidence with the rigging quelled Zuko's small nervousness. After all, he doubted the Fire Nation had anything like polar-dog sledges. He had no experience at this whatsoever.

A moment later, Hakoda was at the driver's position in the back, and with a shift of weight to break the ice around the rails he yelled out, "HAW!"

As one, the five polar-dogs lurched against their bindings. The sledge creaked and jolted forward. Then they were off and gliding over the snow.

Zuko let out a breathless laugh, surprised at power of the dogs — of the speed. Hakoda seemed to be running flat out, gripping the main sledge and pushing it along just as the dogs were pulling.

"You have to lean into the turns!" Sokka yelled from just in front.

"What?"

But a moment later, after another sharp call from Hakoda, the dogs shifted direction like a well-timed flight of birds. Sokka's back was pressed against Zuko's front, and he felt the Water Tribe boy lean to the right in time with the animals. Zuko copied it, even though he felt as if he was going to spill out of the basket at any second. Of course, he didn't, and a moment later the sledge had straightened and they were once again flying across the snowy tundra.

It was by no means a smooth journey — or even a peaceful one. The dogs yelped loudly, and often. The snowpack was bumpy and uneven. Zuko knew that his rear would be sore by the end of the day.

He didn't care.

They traveled ceaselessly, tirelessly, over the frozen landscape. After a few minutes, Zuko settled back, content to watch the landscape zip by faster than he could ever run.

Plus, he was tired — he had spent much of last night wide awake and thinking about what Auya had said about him. Now he was away from the village, and with each passing moment, further away from her. He trusted Sokka, and he trusted in Katara's hope. Maybe by the time they got back home Sokka would have somehow convinced Hakoda to let him stay?

By mid-day the snowy land flattened out to a glossy sort of smoothness. Hakoda called out that they were crossing a large frozen lake, and to keep their eyes peeled for any rotten ice.

Zuko didn't know what made ice rotten. He peered about anxiously anyway, but saw nothing but blank, white snow.

The lake might have been frozen, but it seemed to stretch on and on until the sledge was in the middle and Zuko couldn't see anything on any direction but white flatness. The view might have gotten dull. But Hakoda had his own way of keeping the boys minds sharp and entertained.

"Look there, but not too closely!" Hakoda braced himself against the two back rails, resting for a moment, and raised one mittened hand out to the west. Zuko followed it, and saw what looked to be a small wisp of fog two ship lengths away, barely visible against the bright snow and pure blue sky.

Sokka saw it too, and craned his neck around, looking to his father. "What is it?"

"It's a wraith." Hakoda's face was grim. "They're angry spirits, killed in battle. If you're alone and you see one out in the wilderness you look away. They are vengeful things, and change shape to trick and lead men to their early deaths."

Zuko's eyes widened and he looked out again with a wary eye at the wisp of fog — was it his imagination, or was it getting closer? He shivered and pulled the edge of his hood down so that he could barely see it out of the corner of his good eye.

He felt Sokka scoff, but Zuko could feel how tense he was. Hakoda didn't allow them to linger at the spot, and with another quick command to the dogs, he mushed them forward. Soon the wraith was a distant speck along the horizon.

They finally slowed to a stop on the frozen lake's far bank. Once there had been a hardy polar forest there, but now only dead, charred trees littered the edge of the bank. Most had fallen into decay along the ground, but a couple had bits of life still in them and withered green shoots reached up to the sky.

"When I was a boy, this used to be a vast arctic forest. It burned down a good ten years ago," said Hakoda, as the boys looked on in wonder. Left unsaid, and immediately clear to all three of them, was exactly the reason for the forest's disappearance: The Fire Nation. "But," continued Hakoda, in a decidedly more upbeat tone. "It still makes for a great fishing spot. Start unloading the gear, boys. We will camp here."

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

"This is ice-fishing? It's boring."

"Be quiet. You'll scare away the fish."

"Scare away what fish? It's been an hour—"

"Shhh! I think I see something! No… wait… wait, that's just a twig."

Zuko groaned in frustration. He didn't care what Sokka said. Sitting around a hole in the ice with just a little line, bait, and a hook was cold and boring. He also felt a certain kind of desperation the longer they went without a bite. How was he to convince Hakoda to let him stay with the Water Tribe if he couldn't even catch a measly fish?

He glanced over and saw the Chief setting up the camp and feeding pieces of frozen fish to the polar-dogs back on the bank. The fact that he had been allowed to come at all had to be a good sign, right?

Zuko was determined to stay. But how?

A flash of something white drew Zuko's attention. Putting a hand up to shield his eyes against the still bright sun, he looked out across the frozen lake. A small cloud of white was rising from the ice only fifty feet away, more solid than a vapor, but it wasn't an animal… if he squinted his eyes it looked a lot like the wraith he had seen earlier.

"Sokka!"

"Shhh!"

Zuko grabbed his arm and pointed. "Look! Do you think it's…" he didn't want to finish, for fear of seeming stupid in Sokka's eyes.

But the other boy was following his thoughts, and skeptic that he was, he shook his head. "No. Dad was just making that stuff up. Wraith's aren't really real."

"Yeah… I guess."

Despite their words, neither boy moved a muscle. They stared out with wide eyes as the drift of white in the air became larger and larger. Then, almost as Sokka was about to turn around and call for his father, they saw a pair of long white ears pop out from the base of the thing, almost as if growing from the ice.

Immediately, Sokka relaxed. "It's just a stupid squirrel-rabbit digging around and throwing up snow." Then he brightened and stood up, reaching beside him for the sharp ivory knife Hakoda used to cut the fishing-hole. "Let's kill it and eat it!"

"But…" Zuko glanced at their fishing pole and at the unmoving line. "What about the fish?"

"Who cares about the fish? They're boring. Let's get some real meat. Look, do you want my dad to see you as a great hunter or not?"

That was all it took. With a nod, Zuko followed Sokka's example; he sunk down and moved quickly forward, stalking their prey.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

From the shore, Hakoda noticed the movement of the boys from the corner of his eye. He paused his work, and stood up, watching them with a slight smile across his tanned features. It wasn't a good habit to abandon one's fishing post, but he couldn't help noticing the way his son and the Fire Nation boy moved — hunting whatever they were after as a team, pausing, ducking before darting forward.

Well, perhaps if they were successful, he would teach the new hunters how to gut and cook their kill tonight.

If he knew exactly what Sokka and Zuko were hunting, he would not have been amused at all. He would have been alarmed, and rightfully so. What Hakoda didn't know was that a group of pesky squirrel-rabbits had moved in and recently dug a warren of tunnels through the ice to escape the ashy, corrosive soil of their burned out forest home. Those tunnels weakened the ice.

Hakoda continued watching the boys, feeling a mix of fatherly pride for his son and mingled amusement for the antics of the young. Whatever they were hunting had to be small, because he couldn't see it from his distance. He could see how they seriously they were taking the hunt, and how Sokka silently directed Zuko with small hand gestures. Suddenly Zuko paused in his step and stand up to his full height. The Chief's eyebrows knit; what was the kid doing?

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Far out, across the ice, Zuko stood up and looked around in confusion. There seemed to be dozens and dozens of circular burrows in the ice. At first, he had passed them off as some sort of shadows because they blended in so well with the environment — at least, until he had nearly stepped in one. Now the more he looked the more he saw, and the uneasier he became. "What are these holes doing everywhere?"

"What holes?" Sokka's focus was only for the juicy little meat creature just up ahead. The wind was with him, and he didn't want the Fire Nation kid to mess anything up. He took another cautious step — and then stumbled when his foot sunk down. "Hey! What's this stupid hole doing here?" He tried to tug his foot up, but it was stuck.

"I don't know." Zuko walked over and bent to give Sokka a hand, gripping his ankle and pulling upward. It didn't work, and he tugged again; harder. The sudden jarring along with their combined weight on the thin ice caused an unexpected effect:

CRACK.

The sound was so loud it echoed far and out repeated over and over again across the frozen lake. And it had come from _under_ them.

Sokka and Zuko looked at their feet, at the pitted, slightly mushy ice, then at each other; twin looks of horror on their faces.

"Oh no." And that was all Sokka had time to say.

Another horrible crack and Zuko and Sokka fell down, down, down into the freezing cold water.

It felt as if a thousand knives were stabbing into him at once. Zuko opened his mouth to scream, and the water rushed in. His legs spasmed, kicked. His head broke the surface and he was able to take one cold, sharp breath that hurt more than anything else before he went down again — weighted by boots and a heavy, waterlogged parka.

The knives cut in deeper. He wanted to breathe in, but couldn't. His hand reached upward, grasping onto a razor sharp piece of ice to the side of the hole. He hauled himself up — heedless that it was cutting his hand and was able to gasp for air. "HELP!" he yelled to no one — everyone. "HELP!"

"Hold on!" He could see Hakoda, still far out in the distance, throw a length of rope around his middle and attach the other end to the sledge. The ice had cracked far out in all directions — he could only inch forward, testing one foot at a time to see if it would hold his weight, or else fall into the water himself.

Sokka, crawled up beside Zuko, his hands scrabbling against the ice to find purchase. But the ice was brittle and broke away as soon as he put is weight to it. Zuko reached for him, but Sokka slipped and fell under again. Zuko's own arms were losing strength, and he tried to hold onto the edge, but he was so cold already he could no longer feel his own fingers. As if in slow motion, he felt himself sliding down, sinking slowly under the water…

He could see the surface just above, and reached towards it, his hand silhouetted against the bright pale sun…

 

FLASH

 

_And suddenly he was waking up in his bed. He blinked in confusion and sat up, turning towards the front of his bedroom._

_A girl stood there, outlined by the bright crescent light behind the door. She about Katara's age and height, and was dressed in fine red robes. Her raven black hair was done up into an elegant knot, her skin a beautiful shade of porcelain — her smile was nothing short of malicious, her amber eyes narrowed, glinting almost evily._

_What did she want now?_

_She opened her mouth and spoke… something. Zuko couldn't hear the words, although he knew somehow he had understood her in the past. Whatever she was saying… It was horrible._

_Zuko shook his head, feeling a mix of white hot anger and genuine fear. He controlled himself by a force of will, gripping the edge of the blanket, and yelled back at her._

_The girl just grinned, and she nearly skipped over to his bedside in her excitement — talking, laughing, mocking… torturous words that made him shake his head again and grip his blanket so hard he thought he was going to set it ablaze._

_No… She was lying…_

FLASH

 

A strong hand wrapped around his wrist, and Zuko felt himself being lifted up, up and out. With one massive heave, Hakoda pulled him to safety and hauled him, coughing and gagging, out on the ice.

Then the Chief turned away and went back to the break in the ice. He inched out, flat on his stomach, reaching out and yelling at his son to come closer. Sokka was still in the water.

Zuko wanted to go help, but his very mind felt frozen. His lungs felt withered in his chest. Each breath was short and painful. He was shivering so hard it was almost like a seizure. Inside, nerves were firing randomly, desperately trying to keep him moving. Keep him warm.

He was cold… colder than he had ever been in his life. So cold he almost felt hot. But even that sensation was fading, and it was harder to harder to breathe. Black dots hovered at the very edge of his vision.

Something — he would never quite be sure what — made him pause his gasping for only a moment. He gave a controlled breath out; deep down and out again.

Steam billowed from his nose and mouth. A flick of heat lit from within. It was enough to make Zuko breathe like that again; deep down nearly from his belly. In through his nose and out his mouth. With each deep breath, the warmth grew outward. Finally, on his third exhalation, a small tongue of flame flicked out from between his teeth.

Zuko felt a wave of glorious heat rush through his body, unfreezing his blood.

He was trembling still, but it was the trembles of adrenaline and not cold. He blinked melting water from his eyes and sat up in time to see Hakoda haul Sokka out from the water.

The Chief paused, momentarily surprised to see Zuko aware and alert. Something flickered across his face — something more than relief. But Zuko was in not in the right mind to be perceptive. He could only stare at Sokka. The other boy's lips were blue from cold, his normally healthily tanned skin a pallid grey. And each breath he took sounded ragged, painful.

"Get up," Hakoda rasped, either to Zuko or Sokka, it didn't matter. Still on his stomach, he slid himself and Sokka across the thinner ice to where it was more a deep-set white — thicker. Staggering to stand, he set his own son on his feet. "You must keep moving."

Zuko was still cold, and he was soaked from head to foot, but now faint wisps of steam were coming off his shoulders. He stood to Chief Hakoda's command, shivering, but alert. Sokka was far worse off. "How can I help?"

The Chief stared at him as if he was an aberration, but Sokka was leaning listlessly in his arms, so gray he looked like a corpse. Every second counted, and this wasn't the time or the place to ask. "Go into my pack. We need to start a fire and get Sokka in blankets. He needs to keep moving, and he needs to get warm." Suddenly Sokka pitched forward, retching, and Hakoda tenderly held his shoulders, steadying him. "There now, son… Let it out…"

Zuko didn't give him a second look. He tore off to the sledge, pushing away eagerly sniffing polar-dogs, and ripped off a mitten to dive his hand in the pack and search around. Either he was too panicked to look properly, or the spark-rocks were in a different pack. Either way, he couldn't find them.

Hakoda was nearly at the bank and was removing Sokka's wet, frozen clothing. Zuko turned back and dumped out the contents of the pack, scattering kindling and wrapped fishing hooks in the snow. The spark-rocks weren't there. He could have cried out from frustration. Sokka was going to die because he couldn't start a fire.

… Or could he?

The memory rose again, along with a hot flash of bile. He had been so angry at the girl that he had to control himself from starting the blanket on fire…

Zuko didn't think about what it meant. He _couldn't_ think or else he would have scared himself out of doing it. He'd seen firebending before, from the soldiers on the Fire Nation ship. And nearly breathed fire back then, didn't he? Abandoning the pack, he ran over to Hakoda, ignoring the man's sharp questions.

There was a downed log not too far off, and he grabbed rough stump of a limb in his cold fingers, pulling it over. Hakoda was barking something at him — demanding to know what he was doing, and where were the spark-rocks and kindling? Zuko ignored him. He took a sharp breath through his mouth, letting it out through his nose, closed his eyes, and punched as hard as he could.

His knuckles bit sharply against the wood, and something — some part of him seemed to rush out from between his knuckles. Instantly, the log was ablaze.

Hakoda jerked back in shock, his free hand moving to his belt knife. But the slowly dying son in his arms was the clear priority, and with a single nod, he directed Zuko to come help him with Sokka's clothing. They removed the sodden furs, and switched them with Hakoda's own parka.

Then, shoving, gripping, pleading, threatening, they made Sokka walk around and around the fire. Keeping his blood moving. Keeping him warm.

Sokka moved like a sleep-walker; in and out of consciousness. A couple of times, Hakoda had to slap his face to keep him awake. Zuko saw the twin flashes of pain on both father and son's face —how it killed Hakoda to do that. But Sokka had to keep moving.

It worked; fire was warm and slowly the color returned back to his lips, even if his face remained an unhealthy shade of gray.

"Dad…" Sokka whispered, eyes still closed, listing against his father. "I'm tired…"

"I know, son." Hakoda put his hand to Sokka's cheek, testing its warmth. Finally satisfied he gave another nod. "I think you'll be okay now. You've earned yourself a rest." Carefully, he sat down and Sokka leaned against him, out in a moment. Then, for the first time in an hour Hakoda looked up from his son and at the Fire Nation boy across the fire.

Zuko gulped audibly, feeling pierced by those blue eyes. He sat down, across from them, drawing his legs up to his chest. "I… I didn't know…" he muttered miserably, looking away.

He hadn't allowed himself to think about it until now. He was a firebender. Like the Fire Nation men on the ship. Hakoda would surely think that Zuko would be like them… Evil like them…

"I just started breathing, and it made me warm, and I thought… I thought 'Well if I can do that then I should be able to light a log on fire.'" Zuko was rambling now, trying to explain himself; but after all he had only gotten his voice back a few weeks ago, and he wasn't very practiced yet. And he was scared, _so_ scared that deep down inside he was just as evil as the rest of the firebenders. "And… and I saw something when I was under the water. I don't know who she was, but she was _lying._ I _knew _that she was lying— and I'm not _like_ them! I'm not! I was angry at her, but I didn't do anything—"

"Zuko."

Hakoda's deep voice cut into his nearly hysterical rambling with the force of a slap. Zuko looked up at him, his light gold eyes wide. "I want you to stop, and take a deep breath. We will address this," his eyes flicked to the fire, "later. Right now… Right now…" he trailed off, losing his own words, and Zuko realized at that moment that the Chief was nearly as shaken as he was. But for different reasons. He had almost just lost his son.

"Sokka… He's going to be okay, right?" he asked, his voice small.

"I don't know." Again Hakoda was looking at him, and when he spoke next it wasn't as a Water Tribe Chief to a nearly hysterical, afraid boy. It was something kinder than that, almost in the way he would talk to Sokka on the few occasions he would become upset and irrational. "We need to get him back to the healer. I'm going to pack up the sledge, and we will ride back as fast as we can. Zuko… How ever you made yourself warm — can you do that for him? Can you keep Sokka warm on the way back, too?"

"I… I think so." Meeting Hakoda's blue eyes, Zuko felt his resolve strengthen. "Yes."

They bundled up Sokka as best they could, wrapping him in all the furs and blankets they had. Zuko had a brief worry for Hakoda, as he had given up his own parka to replace Sokka's. Now he was visibly shivering in his blue tunic, and the journey back would surely be cold with the sun going down — but the Chief was a strong man. Probably the strongest man Zuko had ever known, and he knew that if anyone could get them back safe it would be him.

Zuko sat in back of the other boy, wrapping his arms around him to make sure he didn't slip off the sledge. It was hard — Sokka was easily his weight, and had fallen back into a sickly sleep. He was in danger of flopping back and when the dogs ran over bumpy snow. But Zuko gripped him as best he could, and concentrated on breathing in and out — warming himself, and warming Sokka through his own heightened body-heat.

That was the hardest work of all. Zuko felt like something was being pulled from deep down inside of him, and eventually he became so hot that beads of sweat collected on his forehead — just to freeze again by the cold night wind. He wasn't doing this for himself, though, and no matter how uncomfortably warm he became and how tired he got — he kept going.

It took them half a day to ride out to the fishing spot, but Hakoda drove his dogs so mercilessly that it only took half that time to get back. In many ways, luck with them. The night was cloudless, and frozen enough so that the rails of the sledge had no problems. And the moon was full, almost as if she were looking out for Sokka's wellbeing herself.

"It's okay, Zuko. You can let go of him now."

Zuko became aware of the world again and realized that the sledge had stopped, and indeed Hakoda and Healer Kuthruk were standing over him, trying to pry him away from the sick boy. He had been so focused on keeping Sokka warm — so intent on his breathing, that he hadn't even noticed.

With a nod, he let go and crawled out the sledge, falling heavily to his knees when his legs refused to support him. A hand hooked under his arm and helped him to his feet: Hakoda. "I want you to get yourself back to Auya's tent. Don't leave there until I come and get you. Do you understand?" At Zuko's second tired nod, Hakoda favored him with a tight smile. "You did good today."

That buoyed him. He wanted to ask again if Sokka was going to be all right, but Hakoda had turned and was helping healer Kuthruk. It was all Zuko could do to stumble to Auya's tent, fall into his pallet on the far side of it, and pull the sleeping bag over his head.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

The night was late, but sleep was the furthest thing from Hakoda's mind. He sat, a solemn figure in the shadows of Kuthruk's tent as the healer tended to his son; checking his fingers and toes for signs of frostbite, running a beaded amulet over his chest to realign his chi, and lighting spicy incense to encourage good blood flow.

Someone must have alerted Kana, for she appeared a few minutes after the sledge had arrived, pressing a mug of some kind of hot sweet drink in Hakoda's hands. She sat by him, her lined face pulled down in worry; a silent watcher; knowing that her son would tell her the circumstances behind the accident later. Right now, Kuthruk needed all of his attention on her grandson.

After rewrapping Sokka's hands in bandaging — he had scraped them up badly clinging for life on the ice — Kuthruk turned to Hakoda and Kana.

"No signs of frostbite or chilblains. Just simple exhaustion. Aside from those cuts on his hands. I wouldn't have guessed he'd fallen in for as long as you said he did. He must have real fire in his veins to survive that."

The healer had meant it as a light joke. He did not expect Hakoda's frown to deepen. "No," he said, after a moment, and anyone could tell that his mind was other places.

"He'll wake up soon, and he should be allowed to eat as much as he wants," Kuthruk continued, after an uncomfortable pause. Then he smiled reaching down to fondly tweak the sleeping boy's foot. "He should like that. A couple of days of bed rest, and he’ll be as good as new."

Finally, Hakoda seemed to relax. "That's good news. Thank you, Kuthruk."

Kana spoke softly. "Something is on your mind, Hakoda. I can tell."

The Chief sat silent for a moment, and then nodded. "You're right." He drew his hand down his face, feeling the weight of responsibility over his people, and as a father. "Zuko is a firebender."

The Healer was in the middle of putting away jars of salve, but at this he paused. "I see," he said, carefully and returned from his shelves to sit next to his Chief. "Tell me everything."

"I won't go into the entire story, because this will have to be told before the tribe, but he lit a fire for Sokka out of a half-frozen log. He kept him warm on the way back."

"He probably saved him from pneumonia, then." Kuthruk sighed and glanced back towards Sokka. "The tribe will not like this. Bad enough that the boy is Fire Nation, but a firebender?"

Hakoda nodded and said nothing.

 

 


	5. Another Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art created by Zutaraxmylove and can be found at: http://zutaraxmylove.deviantart.com/art/Elemental-Touch-99948275

 

 

* * *

 

"I know, maybe you could find a nice Earth Kingdom family to adopt you."

_\- Azula, Zuko Alone_

* * *

 

 

Hakoda sat traditional style in the Tribe's great roundhouse — the largest structure in the village. As per the name, the structure was circular in shape, both as a nod to the Spirit of the Moon and to best fit as many people in as small of space as possible. A blazing fire had been lit up in the center of the room, and the air was pleasantly warm and smoky. Soon, he knew, it would be almost uncomfortably hot both with the warmth of the Tribe's adults packed in, and their angry words.

Bato took his place to Hakoda's right and sat whittling some kind of a figurine out of wood. Hakoda could sense his curiosity, but even his second in command and best friend would learn what happened with the rest of the tribe. He could read Bato like he could read himself, and he planned on using him as a gage to reflect the mood of his people.

Hakoda closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts — waiting. He heard murmured greetings as people slowly trickled in. Adult voices — for none of the children except for the smallest babies were allowed to attend. Someone grabbed up an aged seal-skin drum and began to pound out a low, welcoming thrum. As if that were a signal, the rest of the stragglers came in and took their seats.

Hastily called gatherings like this were rare. The tribe trusted Hakoda and his council of elders to make most of the major decisions in regards to when and where the next hunt would be, for marriage blessings, and war. But Hakoda was not a fool. This was a special situation; a decision that required the combined will of the tribe.

Finally, there was a small, almost imperceptible shift in the air. Even with his eyes shut, Hakoda knew that everyone had gathered and was waiting. He took a final deep breath to steady himself, and opened his eyes.

Instantly, a hush fell over the crowd.

"My brothers and sisters," he said, and his strong baritone voice carried easily to every ear. "I come to you today with a story to tell, and at the end we will decide as a people what to do about it. I ask only that you allow me to state my words first, and ask questions after."

He looked around, meeting blue gazes one by one — People, faces he had known all his life. They trusted him as their leader, just as they trusted his father before him to do the same. He hoped that it would be enough.

"I am sitting in front of you today as your Chief, but also as the father of Sokka. He is alive today because of the actions of Healer Kuthruk, and to the Fire Nation boy, Zuko."

So he began to tell his story, starting from the very beginning when Sokka first approached him asking if Zuko could come along on their ice-fishing trip.

Hakoda knew himself to be a great speaker. He knew how to stir a man's heart with stories, and how to frighten children into behaving during long winter months. Just as he had seen Sokka's own innate talent for creative planning, he had the ability to show the truth in his words, and make someone feel what he was speaking.

So when he told his people how one moment he was feeding the polar-dogs and watching the boys run off to hunt, and the next they had both fallen through the ice, some of the women gasped and Hakoda knew he had drawn them into his story.

"Most of you are aware," Hakoda said, pausing at that moment to sweep his gaze around the room, "of the choice I faced at that moment."

Some of the men looked away, not meeting his eyes. It was a cruel fact of Antarctic life that if two people were hypothermic and there was only one parka to go around — a brutal decision would have to be made. Hakoda was the only adult, the only one to build a fire and keep a boy moving around it.

It was every man's worst nightmare: Which to lend his jacket, and which to leave to death by exposure?

And they all knew, without saying, that this horrible thing had been on Hakoda's mind while he fished the boys free from the water — and of course Sokka had won.

Hakoda paused, letting that sink in, and he nodded his head once. "So you can imagine my shock when, after I pulled both boys out, Zuko got to his feet. Naturally, he was very cold, but lucid. And he was in a panic. When I told him to go make a fire to help warm up Sokka — he bent one instead."

A single gasp went up from around the villagers, along with an angry buzz. Hakoda held up his hand for silence. It took a few moments before he got it.

"Yes," he drawled in such a dry fashion that he got a few chuckles. "Needless to say, when Sokka was as warm as I could get him, and I recovered my wits, I interrogated the child. He did not know until then what he was capable of — I saw the truth myself in his eyes."

Despite Hakoda's warning to let him speak, Bato turned to him. "But Sokka… he will be fine?" The worry in his face and eyes were clear. Bato loved Sokka as if he was his own, just as Hakoda had loved Bato's two daughters, and had grieved as much as any father when they were killed in last spring's Fire Nation raid.

Hakoda nodded, allowing a small smile to cross his face. "Yes. Zuko used his bending to keep Sokka warm on the journey back. Healer Kuthruk believes it is because of that and how promptly he was put by a fire after leaving the water, that he will make a full recovery." Now he raised his chin, his authoritative voice echoing down from one end of the meeting room to the other. "Sokka will grow up stronger and wiser because of this. He will survive to lead the new generation in large part due to actions of a young firebender. Now we must decide, as a people, what to do."

There was a moment of silence, and then several people spoke up at once — some angry, some confused.

_It begins_, Hakoda thought. Hopefully, he had stated Zuko's case well enough.

Tatum was the first to stand. He was a burley lug of a man with thick eyebrows. He was also one of the tribe's most seasoned warriors. Hakoda acknowledged him with a nod, letting him speak freely.

"Brothers, and sisters; the choice is clear. While I am grateful to hear the Fire Nation boy helped saved young Sokka, it was merely a debt repaid. Chief Hakoda was the one to originally spare Zuko. He now owes this tribe nothing, and we require nothing of him." There were several nods from around, and cheered by this, Tatum continued, "The boy must go to the Earth Kingdom. I've heard talk from Auya about sending him to Kyoshi Island. Let's send him there."

Bato stood up, bristling, and barely waited for Hakoda's nod to rebuke. "It would be hard to get anyone to accept a Fire Nation boy on their doorstep, but a fire_bender_? No. They would put him down like a polar-dog."

"But he cannot go back to the Fire Nation," Tatum replied. "I will not stand by while another firebender is added to their ranks."

Now there were more nods, and a woman, her face half hidden in the shadows called out. "Look what those Fire Nation savages already done to the boy! I can't hardly look at his face without thinking about it. He was abused over there. We can't send him back!"

Hakoda's plan was to be silent and have his people talk this out, for he had faith that they were good and that they would come to the right decision in the end. But at this, he had to speak; not as Sokka's father this time, but as Chief. "Even if I thought that it would be best for the boy to go back to his own people — and I don't — I could never risk a ship full of my men in enemy waters just to drop off a child."

"He can't stay here!" another woman shot back, and Hakoda recognized the voice of Auya. Instantly, he was dismayed. He had counted on the woman to be on Zuko's side, since she was the one charged with housing him.

People started shouting, voicing their own opinions and Hakoda had to hold up his hand for silence.

Bato indicated that he wanted to speak again.

"I've watched the boy, and talked with him a few times. He follows the men around like a puppy, and imitates us. I have no doubt in my mind that he would wish to be Water Tribe, if he was given a chance."

"It just wouldn't be natural for the boy," said Auya, standing. "His best chance is to go to the Earth Kingdom. Perhaps he could hide his abilities—"

Healer Kuthruk spoke up, cutting off her words. "As far as I've been told, bending is something from the spirit, and not a physical power. Zuko could no more hide what he is than he can hide his eye color."

Ekchua, the man who had served as cook on the ship, grunted from the back. "He might be useful to us as a warrior when he grows up — fight fire with fire, eh?"

There was more murmuring to this, and Hakoda was glad that it was in approval rather than of anger. He saw his chance, and took it. "Bato, would you want to be responsible for the boy, then? He is young, yet. He could be molded into our ways."

Bato stared at him for a moment, and then a flash of grief passed over his face, and Hakoda knew the answer before he spoke it. "No. I can't… Hakoda, it's too soon since my daughters…" He broke off, looking away and Hakoda placed a hand on his shoulder. His friend didn't need to say any more.

There was a shuffling movement, and Kana stepped into the flickering firelight. Hakoda gestured for her to speak, intensely curious.

"Many of you know that I spent my childhood in our sister tribe up North," Kana said, and although her voice was soft, the quiet reverence of the tribe allowed her words to carry to every ear. Even Hakoda leaned forward, for he had only heard her talk of North a handful of times in his life. "When I was young, there was a Fire Nation raid on our city. Many men were killed on both sides, but we held them off, and at the end three prisoners were brought up to the Chief; a Fire Navy Captain and two of his Lieutenants — all firebenders. They were kept alive, and placed in the cells. It was thought we could use them for prisoner exchange since the Fire Nation had captured some of our waterbenders."

She paused then, hands folded within her fur-lined robes, head bowed. Hakoda wondered what was flashing behind her eyes — and what horrors she had witnessed as a girl. Was this the reason why she came down South? "I was friends at the time with a celebrated healer, Yagoda," Kana continued. "She was charged with keeping the men fed and healthy. We were of the same age, and as she was afraid of them, I would often accompany her." She paused, deep in thought. "They were… cruel men with tempers fit to burn… Looking back now, I don't see our Zuko in any of these men." A couple smiles went around, mostly from the women, but now Kana's deeply lined face was blank. She was not in the roundhouse… her mind was back in another time. "They abused us with insults at every chance, because we were young and because they could. But they were healthy, and strong… then the winter came." Again she paused. "Our Northern sister tribe live at a higher latitude, so they suffer four months of darkness to our three. As soon as the days of darkness started, the Captain and his two Lieutenants lost their firebending ability. Then, slowly, they became weaker. Yagoda did everything that she could for them… She was so very kind in the face of their contempt. But they wilted like flowers without the sun, and by the second month they were dead."

She finished speaking, and a certain stillness entered the room, as if all the air had gone out of it.

Hakoda felt his stomach clench. Kana's words had the weight of truth behind them. Automatically, he looked across the room to Kuthruk. "Have you heard sort of thing before?"

"I know that extreme cold can reduce the capabilities of firebenders," Kuthruk said, after a moment. "We've used it to our advantage before, if my memory serves. But it seems more likely that the men Kana remembers caught some disease which they had no resistance against."

Kana shook her head slowly, regretfully. "Yagoda was certain. She said there was no physical reason for it. It was almost as if the Spirits themselves had stepped in and seeped their life away."

All was silent for another moment as everyone digested this news. The tribe had been on the edge of decision, but now Hakoda could feel the moment slip away. The final door had closed, leaving Zuko with no options at all.

Again, Tatum stood to speak. "So the boy cannot go to the Earth Kingdoms, and we will not send him back to the Fire Nation. Who's left? The Air Nomads? Well, it's a hundred years too late for that."

His words seemed almost unnecessarily cruel in the face of what they had just heard, and there was an awkward silence afterwards. Some people shifted.

Auya spoke again. "It isn't fair, but it is his people who are to blame for this. Not us."

Hakoda let out a long breath. He was impatient to speak, although he had promised himself that he wouldn't. The Tribe may see him as too close to this, because of Sokka. Zuko needed an unbiased champion.

Bato cast him a long look out of the corner of his eye, and then stood. They had been friends since they were around Sokka's age, and the other man could read him like a book. Predictably, when he spoke it was almost exactly what Hakoda himself would have said.

"So it comes to this, brothers and sisters: The boy will die. Either at the hand of his own people, or by an angry Earth Kingdom mob, or by some sort of spiritual defect. He will die. So, the question is; which would be the least cruel? Kana," and he turned, bowing his head respectfully at the woman who had always been like a mother to him. "Do you think that those Fire Nation men suffered?"

Kana closed her eyes. "Some," she said, after a moment, "but not physically. It was their pride in becoming weak that hurt them the most."

Bato nodded. "As I'm sure it would hurt any warrior."

"I'm still not convinced that their death wasn't caused by some sort of disease, or a strange suicide pact," added Kuthruk, from his seat.

Tatum stood with a sneer. "Perhaps then we should consult the Spirits, and let them decide if we cannot make up our minds about it."

His words were clearly meant as sarcasm, but a ripple of agreement went through the tribe.

"Perhaps we should," Bato agreed. "This winter could be… a sort of a test." He stroked his chin and turned to Hakoda. "And if he dies… Would it not be more humane to be surrounded by those who have cared for him?"

Hakoda privately thought that it was more than just a little harsh to test the boy with his very life. Something inside of him recoiled at thinking of Zuko wasting away from lack of sun. But he was also a realist, and nothing said in this gathering wasn't true. The Earth Kingdom had suffered through a hundred years of firebender attacks, and they would not grant Zuko an easy death. The evidence of what the Fire Nation was capable of was already seared across the boy’s face.

And there was always the chance that Kana was wrong.

"Then if the Spirits grant him the strength to survive the darkness of winter, he will be Water Tribe," he said, and his voice carried with it the weight of an order. He looked around and saw acceptance on the faces of his people — and felt a flash of pride. They had all lost so much to the Fire Nation, yet they were willing to accept one of their children as one of their own.

There was still one matter to clear up, though.

"Auya," Hakoda commanded, and the woman stood again. "No one will think worse of you for your words, so please answer truthfully; these might be Zuko's last days. Do you think you could care for him as if he were your son?"

The woman had started to shake her head almost as soon the last word had left her mouth. "No, Hakoda," she said, looking down at the ground. "I know he's just a child… but every time I look at him I can only think of my sister, Ahnah, and how the Fire Nation…" She closed her lips over her next words and shook her head again, taking her seat.

Ekchua, the cook stood up. "It's gotta be you, Chief." He grunted. "You have the only other bender in your family, and I've seen how he respects you." A round of pleased mutters followed his words.

Hakoda was taken aback. He hadn't expected this. In actuality, he had thought that Zuko would go to Auya… but that was now out of the question.

If Zuko was going to be Water Tribe, he would need someone strong to lead him. He was young enough to mold to their ways, but he would still need kind direction. Hakoda wondered briefly if his beloved Kya was watching this from the Spirit World, and laughing. She always told him that destiny had a twisting path all its own. Now in one turbulent year he had lost a wife, and gained another son.

Hakoda bowed his head in acceptance.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Zuko slept in usually late the next morning, well past the rising sun. When he awoke, Auya's tent was empty; she and her baby had gone to their daily chores without bothering to wake him first, although she had set aside some bread, a little seal-goat cheese, and a small flask of water for his breakfast.

Mindful of Hakoda's orders last night, Zuko ate in the tent and then only went as far out to peek out the fur-flap entrance.

Auya's tent was set near the border of the village, and through the morning fog he could see vague adult shapes converging on the Tribe's roundhouse. Zuko heard the low deep boom of a drum from that direction. Soon all the adults had gone inside. Usually meetings were held at night, after dinner. He had never seen one held in the morning like this, and it made his insides twist with worry.

How he wished he was able to just find the stupid spark-rocks instead of having to set that log on fire! But then Hakoda might not have ordered him to keep Sokka warm like he did, and Zuko may not have thought of it himself…

… He hoped Sokka was okay.

An hour's time found Zuko sitting just outside the tent, scraping snow into small sloppy piles for lack of anything else to do. The meeting was still going on, and although he could occasionally hear raised voices he couldn't quite catch the words. He dared not sneak closer, either. This was as far as he thought he could go, while still obeying Hakoda's command to stay in the tent.

Zuko heard a crunch of footfalls against icy snow and looked up to see Katara standing about ten feet away from him. One look at her face, and he knew that she _knew_. She was back to being afraid of him, and now maybe she had a good reason. Only this time Zuko had his voice, and although he didn't realize it, the few months of friendship and relative kindness from the tribe had done much for his confidence.

"Quit staring at me like that," he ordered. "I'm not going to burn you."

"How come you never told me?"

Of all the questions he thought she would ask, that wasn't one of them. He looked away from her, and moodily added a handful of snow to the top of his pile. "I didn't know… I just remembered."

He glanced up, wondering if she would believe him, or accuse him of lying. Her hands were on her hips, much like he had seen Kana do when she was feeling stern.

"You remembered?" she repeated. Maybe it was his imagination, but he thought he saw her face soften, just a little. "You mean, you got your memory back?"

"No, just one thing." He flashed to that red bedroom and that horrible girl, and he shivered. "I don't want to talk about it. How's Sokka?"

"He's sleeping. He's the one who told me what happened, after he stuffed his face full of food." Katara rolled her eyes, and dropped her hands from her hips. Then she hesitated, just for a moment longer, before stomping over and deliberately sitting down next to him. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Good." This was said harshly, to cover up the wave of pure golden relief that washed through him. He didn't look at her, not directly. It was easier to pretend to be mad at Katara… just in case she was still secretly mad at _him_. Like a preemptive strike.

"In fact," Katara continued, wholly oblivious to Zuko's plan. After all, she had one of her own. "Now that you're a bender, you can teach me."

Zuko shook his head and grabbed yet another handful of snow, adding it to his growing pile. "Don't be stupid." The look she gave him then was so full of contempt that he again flashed to the girl in his memory. Quickly, he added, "Okay, look… Even if I ever got all my memories back; fire and water are opposites anyway. There's no point."

"But there's no one else in the whole South Pole to teach me!"

"Katara—"

But she was more determined than he. After all, she had been waiting her whole life to see someone bend, and she wasn't going to let a little thing like opposite elements stop her. "C'mon, I'll show you." She tugged him, still protesting, back in Auya's tent.

It was warmer inside, but the wash bucket in the corner still had a film of ice across the top. This, Katara broke and dipped her hand in, lifting some in her hand. The water held still for her, a near perfect globe in the cup of her palm. "Here, can you do this?"

"What? With water?"

"No." She gestured impatiently to the low coals smoldering in the tent's small fire-pit.

He did a double-take, and then shook his head, actually scooting himself away from the fire-pit. "Are you crazy?! I can't do that!"

"Yes you can." She held out the water-globe to him almost as an example. "It's your element. It will do what you tell it to do."

He looked from her hand to the softly glowing coals and back again. She was staring at him, with her hand still held out, such a plaintive look on her face that it almost hurt to have to say no.

"What if I become evil?" he said, and it came out as a whisper, because he didn't really want to say it, and he didn't want anyone else to accidentally hear his fears. "What if I… I become as bad as all of the rest of the Fire Nation, and I just want to burn everything down?"

Katara's face fell, and she got that sad, pained look on her face she always got when she was thinking about her mother. Then she shook her head. "You won't." Her free mittened hand reached out for his, curling about his fingers in a reassuring squeeze. "I know you, Zuko. You're not like the evil firebenders. You've been with us for too long, and you saved Sokka's life."

"But… what if—"

"You don't know how it is, 'cause you just learned that you could, but it hurts not bend. It's like… not being able to see color. So, you can teach me what you know, and I can teach you what you know… and… and we'll learn together. And if you slip and start burning people and stuff… well, I'll be there to put it out." The water rippled in her hand, as if emphasizing her words. “That’s what water does.”

Zuko would have never, ever done it if he didn't see some sort of point in her words. He had to admit, though, that he did. He felt a sort of longing to try and bend again. All morning he had been avoiding looking at the fire-pit, because he felt that in a small way the heat drew him in. Now that he dared to look he saw that the embers were glowing a sort of sickly orange, and it disturbed him in a vague sort of way. Like coming across an animal which was slowly dying from lack of air. He felt sympathy for the dying fire.

Finally, he nodded and carefully crawled forward, to kneel in front of the coals. There was every real chance he could get badly burned. "I can't just stick my hand in there," he said, feeling the weight of her gaze on him. Katara was beside him, water still in hand, watching his every move very closely. "Give me a minute."

He closed his eyes, knowing somehow instinctively that he had to be calmer than he was right now. He could feel the heat of the close burning coals tighten his skin, and it was almost a welcoming sensation, but he ignored it. Instead, he focused on breathing; in and out. In and out. Katara was right there with her water in case things got bad… She was right there…

"Zuko…"

His light gold eyes snapped open to Katara's alarmed hiss. The coals were brighter now, and Zuko got the impression that they were breathing with him. He raised his hand, hesitated one more moment, and then shoved it in. It was hot, but he was quick enough so that it didn't burn, and when he snapped his arm back he had a little dancing flame in the cup of his hand. "Wow!"

"See!" Katara made a move as if to hug him, but at the last moment remembered he was holding fire, and just settled for grinning. She had been waiting her whole life — all eight years of it — to talk about bending with another person, and it didn't matter at all if that person bent fire. "Do you feel a sort of… a pulling feeling with your fire?"

He frowned, and he looked at the fire in his hand thoughtfully. "No. It's more like… It's…" He trailed off.

"What?" she pressed.

"It feels like a little heartbeat. It's almost alive."

Now it was Katara's turn to frown and look to her own element. She had never felt that way about water. It moved in ebbs and flows. Fire, she thought, must be very different. Carefully, she tugged the mitten over her free hand with her teeth and reached out, holding her hand over Zuko's flame as close as she could without getting burned. She could feel it flickering in tiny waves, something almost the same as her own water… but very different at the same time.

Zuko did the same, covering his free hand over her globe of water.

"I think I feel what you're talking about," Katara said.

"I think… maybe I do, too."

The fur-lined tent flap opened, startling Zuko and Katara out of the reverie.

Zuko snatched his hand back from the globe of water and closed his fist; guiltily snuffing out the small flame. It was too late. Sokka had seen everything.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Katara's concern was only for her big brother, and she leapt up, pulling him inside. He was wearing his thickest parka and blue leggings, but there was still a sickly sort of grey color about his skin. Katara sat him down by the coals, and deftly grabbed one of Auya's best furs, throwing it about his shoulders. "Healer Kuthruk said you were to stay inside our tent."

"I'd rather die of pneumonia than boredom," snapped Sokka, although his blue gaze never left Zuko's face. "What were you two doing?"

"Bending." Katara's tone was nothing short of glib as she tucked the edges of the furs about Sokka's body. She was always happiest when bossing someone around, or trying to mother them.

Sokka's face darkened, and Zuko looked away guiltily. He knew what had happened to Sokka and Katara's mother, and if Katara was going to pretend it didn't matter, it was only because she was so excited to have another bender around. Sokka was a different story.

Sure enough, when Sokka spoke his voice was full of venom. "I can't believe you two are just sitting around, wasting time like this," he said, then pointed outside. "Dad's in the roundhouse, telling the tribe now what you are, Zuko. I heard him and Kuthruk talking about it when they thought I was asleep. They're probably going to send you away, and you two are just sitting around playing with your magic?"

Katara gasped and murmured "No…" but Zuko knew that Sokka was telling the truth. Zuko wasn't going to say he was sorry, because he wasn't, really, but he felt a flash of shame flush his unscarred cheek.

No one said anything more for a few pained moments. Finally Sokka let out a long breath and scratched the back of his neck. "And… I guess you saved my life back there. Sothanks." This was said very quickly, followed by a hastily held out hand. Zuko gripped his arm, Water Tribe style, and noticed that Sokka still felt cold to the touch, but he dared not warm him or increase the flame on the nearby coals.

"But…" Katara's eyes darted from one boy to another. "Who will teach me about bending if they send him away?"

"Is that all you care about?" Zuko demanded, turning to her.

"I don't!" she snapped, although her gaze darted guilty to the side. "But I just thought… You have a plan, don't you, Sokka?" Katara turned to her brother, hopeful.

The Water Tribe boy seemed to sink down in the folds of the thick blankets. Zuko had never seen him look so tired. It must have taken almost all his effort to just walk over to the tent.

"No," Sokka admitted, with a swipe of his hand across his nose. He looked like he was getting the sniffles. "I just wanted to say goodbye before they send Zuko back to the Fire Nation and turn him against us."

Zuko's mouth felt dry. "I wouldn't ever—"

"You won't have a choice. They took away your memories once, right?"

Sokka had a point, and Zuko felt a sense of horror rise up with himself. It was too easy to imagine himself in those blood-red uniforms, bearing down on the South Pole in one of those iron-ships… "No. I'll— I'll fight them. I'll run away," he said, clenching his fists. "And I'll join the Earth Kingdom and…" He thought again of that golden-eyed girl in his memories. He closed his eyes. "It was horrible over there. I remembered something when I was in the water. I'm never going back."

"Of course it's horrible over there," Sokka said, pragmatically. "Why do you think the Fire Nation is trying to conquer everyone else?"

But Katara had once again gripped Zuko's hand into her own. "What did you remember?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I still want to know. Please?"

Zuko opened his eyes and saw that her face was sincere. Even Sokka seemed mildly interested, although he looked like he was pretending not to be. So, he started speaking, telling them of his fragmented memory. The large bedroom, and of the girl with her hateful words which he could not understand today, but which had filled him with such terror before.

Sokka stopped him at points, and asked him to elaborate on certain details. Zuko did as he was told, and to his surprise with a little prompting he remembered things that he had half-forgotten before. There had been a dagger laying on his bed stand, the hilt inlaid with some sort of pearl design. The rich russet hangings around his bed were ornamented with the Fire Nation insignia. Although try as he might, he couldn't figure out one word that the girl had been saying.

Finally, there was nothing more to tell. Zuko felt strained and worn, having to remember the unpleasant memory all over again, although he felt anxious what Sokka thought of it. The other boy was thoughtful in ways that he knew he could never be.

But Sokka was also tired, and he sat huddled in his blankets, cold and miserable. "I don't know," he said, at last. "It's weird to think of a bedroom that large. Maybe your dad was a Chief of his village, although… If he was he would have been looking for you, wouldn’t he?" Sokka sighed, his head bobbing in exhaustion.

Katara shot Zuko a meaningful look, and then went over to her brother. "I'll take you back to our tent. Auya will yell at us if she catches you sleeping in here. Come on."

She and Zuko hauled him to his feet, although Zuko could only help him to the door of the tent, remembering that he had been told to stay inside.

"I'll be back," Katara promised, meeting his eyes again.

Then the two siblings were gone, and Zuko was stuck alone in the tent with nothing but a cold fire and an unpleasant memory to keep him company. He stuck his head out of the tent, and reluctantly looked to the roundhouse.

What was taking the adults so long?

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

The meeting adjourned soon after. Once the decision was made, the tribe as a whole was eager catch up with the day's chores, and hunting and gathering. A whole morning had been wasted, and winter's darkness would be upon them soon enough.

Only Hakoda stayed back, and with a nod to Bato to let him know he would be joining him later, he headed back to the main village to check on Sokka. This morning, Kuthruk had judged his health to be good enough to be moved back from the healer's tent to his own. It was a short walk, but Hakoda's mind was heavy with decision, and he ended up taking the long way —around the perimeter of the village.

He pushed back the fur-flap door and found Sokka curled up asleep under a thick pile of blankets, Katara by his side.

His daughter looked up. "Dad… you told everyone that Zuko had to stay, right?" she whispered. "He saved Sokka's life. You can't send him away."

Hakoda favored her with a small smile, but didn't answer her directly. "Go on outside and play, Katara. I need to speak with your brother."

She hesitated, nearly wiggling with curiosity, but she had been raised to mind her elders at all times and with a sullen nod, took herself outside.

Sokka seemed to be asleep, but he woke easily enough when Hakoda came to sit down beside him. He had eaten heartedly several hours before, much like Kuthruk had said, and had seemed to be in his usual high spirits this morning. Now he seemed to be tired again, but his eyes were clear and he watched his father with an intelligent gaze. Clearly, he was expecting bad news.

Hakoda picked his words very carefully. The boy had just lost his mother to a firebender attack this spring, after all. The best way would be to talk to Sokka in a clear, concise way. "Everyone thought that Zuko showed himself honorably in saving your life. He will stay with the tribe, and since our family has the only other bender, he will stay with me as my son."

Sokka jerked back in surprise, and then grinned. "Really?!"

"Yes, although I know it won't be easy. We've been a small family now for some time and it may take patience and understanding to make sure everyone finds their place."

"I think it’s right," Sokka said, after a long moment. Some of the jubilation and relief was fading, and now Sokka was thinking again. "But… I still get to be the elder brother, right Dad? I mean—" He set himself up more fully in the bed, trying to make his point, "—Zuko doesn't know _anything_. Like how to look for rock fish, or what season is best to hunt seal, and he still can never hit anything with a boomerang. I do, and I could teach him."

His son would make a great and wise Chief one day. Hakoda smiled and clapped his hand on Sokka’s shoulder. He too, had thought of this, among many other things on his long walk. It was impossible to say how old Zuko was, exactly. The years just before adolescence sometimes made age an ambiguous thing. But where being the older brother was mostly a source of pride for Sokka, Hakoda’s plans were further reaching. In the coming years, it would mean who had the greater decision on who Katara would be betrothed too, and who would lead the tribe.

"Yes, Sokka. You will be the eldest. That's why I came to you with this, first. You must help guide your brother to our ways. He's made a good start, but as you said there's much more to learn." He paused then, meeting his son's gaze, and judging him to be old and mature enough to know the rest. "You must also help him be strong. Your Gran-Gran is wise and knows many things, and she has said firebenders need the sun to live."

Sokka's blue eyes widened, and Hakoda could almost see his quick mind make the connections. "But, there's gonna be no sun at all in the winter, and that's not too far away!"

"Exactly my point. The elders have decided it will be a test for him. If he lives then the Spirits mean him to be with us. So, it's going to be our job to make sure he's as strong as he can be."

"Oh." Sokka was quiet for a long, long moment. Then, "Do you think he'll die, Dad? Is that why you sent Katara out?"

Hakoda hesitated at this, but in truth Sokka was now eldest of two siblings, and he had to know the entire truth. "The Tribe did not come to this decision lightly. We think he has a better chance with us than anywhere else. The world won't be kind to a young firebender."

The boy sighed and shifted around, plucking a tuft of hair out of the fur blanket. "No, I guess not. They would all think Zuko was just like the rest of them. Not that I mind… it would be kind of neat to have a little brother, even if he is another bender." He looked up. "How are we going to tell him about the winter?"

And now they had come to the question that had been plaguing Hakoda the most during his walk. "No," he said, at length. "I don't think he should be told… not yet." Sokka opened his mouth, but Hakoda continued. "There's nothing we can do to change when the sun will or will not shine, and having Zuko worry about it won't help him at all. Sometimes, Sokka, people are stronger when they don't know that they need to be."

Sokka didn't agree fully with him. Hakoda could see it in his eyes. But he nodded all the same, accepting his father’s wisdom for what it was.

Hakoda rose. "I will make sure Kuthruk stops by to check on you soon. Is there anything you need? Are you warm enough?"

"I am sort of hungry," Sokka admitted, ruefully. “Do we have anymore seal jerky?”

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Later that afternoon, Hakoda visited Zuko in Auya's tent. He could see the boy brace himself for the worst, but there was no whining. The Fire Nation were a savage people, but they bred their boys and men to be tough… Hakoda would give them that. Looking down at Zuko, he couldn't tell that the boy had nearly drowned the day before. It seemed impossible that he could be so susceptible to a lack of sunlight.

"Zuko," Hakoda said, matter of factly. This was a matter of fact situation. How he wished that Kya were still here…. This needed a woman's touch. He probably should have brought Kana along, but it was too late now. "It's been decided that you are to stay with the tribe as one of my sons. Go on and pack your things. You'll be moving into my family’s tent."

The boy seemed not to understand for a moment. He just looked up at him with large, light golden eyes. "You… you mean I'm not going to be banished?"

_Banished…?_ Hakoda knelt down so that he was eye-level with the child. "No, Zuko. I think you will make a fine Water Tribe warrior one day. Would you like to stay with Sokka, Katara, and I, as a family?"

"More than anything!"

"Good boy. I'll help you pack your things."

He didn't have much, and shortly thereafter Hakoda led him to the tent. Katara squealed upon seeing the boy — Hakoda assumed that Sokka had just told her the news — and he watched in amusement as she threw her arms around Zuko, embarrassing the boy horribly.

Kana set to work pressing Katara, Zuko and Sokka into cutting up sea-prunes for the night's soup. Soon the air in their small dwelling was filled with the smells of cooking, and children's high-pitched talking and laughter.

Hakoda sat by the fire, watching the scene, and allowed himself a smile. This tent had been empty, and too quiet since Kya had died. Now, for the first time, it seemed full of life again.

Outside, the short Antarctic day was ending — the long night was beginning.

 

* * *

 

**Notes: **Zuko has a family now! :)

Okay, so while I was writing this (and boredly looking up random Wiki articles at work.) I came across polar night. In season 1 it was supposed to be winter, but Sokka made a reference to 'Midnight Sun Madness', and when I rewatched the episode I realized that the sun never set. It might be winter for the northern hemisphere, but in the southern I guess they were in summer. Since they were having Midnight sun, I would assume that polar night would also occur. And because the Water Tribe apparently live at the South Pole I would assume at least some of this would be astronomical polar night — where no trace of light is at the horizon during any point in the day. (Again, all of this researched at work. I am the worst employee ever.)

Now, we know that firebenders lose their ability during eclipses and gain more of it with a comet. Waterbenders also lost their ability when the Moon Spirit was killed. I also think that the earthbenders in the out-to-sea jail were stricken with more than normal despair when they were separated from their element. If I really stretch, it's almost like the earthbenders only got some of their hope back once they were presented back with their element. Katara's inspirational speeches didn't help. The coal did. Of course, they did had metal — which none of them realized is possible to bend. So they didn't fade away completely.

Anyway those are my thoughts, and why I turned the plot in the direction that I did. Whee!

Thanks for reading! Your thoughts are appreciated!

 


	6. The Dark Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This art was drawn by the lovely and talented GreenAppleFreak!  
> http://greenapplefreak.deviantart.com/art/In-the-Winter-Solstice-167794932
> 
> About the Art:  
> _"Before Zuko arrived to their family, Hakoda used to joke and drink with his friends all night during the winter solstice. But now, as strange as it may seem, he finds himself more relaxed watching his new son sleep. Even Katara and Kana prefer to spend the night beside Zuko than in the Main House, and Hakoda practically has to shove Sokka out of the tent to convince him to go to the feast for a little while._
> 
> _So there, while practically everyone is cheering and feasting, Hakoda’s family prefers to pass the time around each other. It makes for a nice image, what with all your family around. ^^;_
> 
> _I know it's winter, but inside that tent the fire goes nonstop, and Kana and Katara are used to cold temperatures, so of course they are using summer clothes inside; Hakoda has just arrived after some 'chief duty' and is in the process of removing his parka (and probably placing it over Zuko, who despite being almost drowned by furs still looks like he's cold."_

 

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

“You rise with the moon. I rise with the sun.”

- _Zuko, The Siege of the North, part 1_

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

With each day, the sun sunk down lower and lower below the horizon. At first, Zuko hardly noticed. He had a vague idea — he wasn't sure where, but it was probably from his past life in the Fire Nation — that the days would become shorter, and then longer again after the Winter Solstice. Certainty no one told him any differently — even the seasoned warriors could hardly conceive of a winter with sun. And no one wanted to broach the subject with him. That was Hakoda's duty.

So, when Zuko realized that the sun's light had diminished to only a few hours a day with winter hardly upon them, he asked Bato who hesitated, and then told him matter of factly that in the southern pole, the winter darkness lasted three months.

Zuko blinked in surprise, and then shrugged. It was just another new thing to learn.

The last few hours of light were spent in preparation. Banks of tall clouds and thunderheads raised high in the sky from the north, and it seemed with every passing day the storms got closer, and darker. The Water Tribe tents were made of sturdy fabric secured with tough rope, but even they would not be able to stand up to winter storms. Blocks of snow were cut, shaped, and stacked around the outer walls, curving in so that they formed a strong enough dome that could hold the weight of a man. The children were charged with packing bits of snow into the cracks formed between the blocks. They had to make it as insulated as possible to keep the chill air out.

Zuko got the idea of melting the snow into the really deep cracks to get it to fit. After all, it was only a little bit of bending — no fire was involved; he just had to place his hand over the spot and give it a small sort of a nudge. Katara caught onto what he was doing with a startling swiftness, and enthusiastically took up the idea — dragging Sokka along when the older boy started scoffing at their magic. Soon a system evolved where Sokka would gather the piles of loose snow, and identify the major cracks in the ice. Zuko would melt the snow in, and Katara would apply her own talent to reform the water inside to secure ice.

By the second day, Zuko and Katara had become so practiced at this that they didn't need to lay their hands over the snow they were manipulating. A small wave would do it, and the process happened so quickly that sometimes Zuko felt almost as if he were bending water, and not just the heat around it. He thought about asking Katara if she felt the same thing, but could never find the right words to express himself.

The days became shorter still, and it was without any apprehension on Zuko's part when the sun became a sliver of brilliance along the east horizon, and then nothing but a glow.

To the people of the Water Tribe, the first week of darkness was a celebration. Everyone piled into the great roundhouse and shared stories, and sang, and danced, and feasted around a great blazing fire. Sokka challenged Zuko to an eat-off of seal jerky— which Sokka then won quite handily.

The elder men of the village took turns telling stories and fables of their forefathers, using their hands to cast shadow puppets against one wall of the lodge. This, Zuko felt, was best done by Hakoda, who specialized stories so frightening and real that they would sometimes keep him and Katara awake and shivering at night.

His favorite story was one that everyone swore was true, because it was about Hakoda's grandfather.

It went like this:

Back in those days, the land was wilder and the tribe was plagued in the summer by a giant elephant-wasp; a beast so large and so fierce that it dragged children away when they wandered too far from their homes.

Other kinds of people would have run away in fear, or fought among themselves, or been too afraid and stubborn to go out. But the people of the Southern Water Tribe instead came together in friendship and cooperation. They pooled their resources and fashioned a long string out of all their net-rope. The men waited for days around a trap of cut tiger-seal meat, but by this time the elephant-wasp had only a taste for human-flesh.

After declaring that he was not afraid, the Chief's eldest son tied the string around his waist and put himself out as bait. Three long days passed, and the giant elephant-wasp swooped down and carried him away. But the trick had paid off, and the tribe was able to follow the long string to the wasp's nest. There, they joined in battle and their waterbenders drowned the monster. The Chief's son was a hero, and the Water Tribe would never again be plagued by elephant-wasps, because the beasts would never forget the Southern Water Tribe, and how they were strong because they fought as one people and stuck things out together until the end.

So, the first week of darkness passed very pleasantly for Zuko. All the hard work he and the rest of the tribe put into hunting and gathering for days on end in the fall had paid off. The tribe would have enough to eat and drink for the winter. While the fierce winter wind howled and tore at their dwellings, they were so warmly packed with snow and skins that Zuko felt secure, and safe. Boredom was the only real problem.

And if sometimes Zuko caught some of the tribesmen giving him sidelong, pitying glances, he ignored them. They were probably just thinking of his scars.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

One day — or night — there was a usual lull in the terrible winter storms. The sky was dark, but very clear and the half-moon shined down on the new fallen snow making it glitter like a thousand encrusted diamonds. Peeking his head out the tent, Sokka saw this and immediately challenged Zuko and Katara to a game of hide an' freeze.

The children spent next few hours dashing around within the strict perimeter of the village, and shrieking when one or the other was caught.

It was one of those strange times of day when the sun should have been up, but wasn't. It lurked just below the horizon, casting a sort of dark twilight over the whole village. This, Zuko soon discovered, made for a ton of excellent hiding places. He got the idea to creep into one of the long shadows thrown off by someone's tent and sink down into the snow, practically unseen. It worked nearly every time.

In this round, Katara was It, and he could hear her from far off away, counting to one hundred.

Zuko grinned to himself, and after checking to make sure he wasn't in view of Sokka (because he would steal his trick if he could), he walked over and laid out flat along the edge of a long shadow. Katara would have to look really hard to find him here.

His parka was thick, and lined with wolf-wolverine fur, but after a few minutes he felt the chill of snow against his belly. Katara had stopped counting, so he couldn't risk changing his position or using the fire breathing (which he liked to call his breath of fire, because it sounded mysterious) to warm up. So instead Zuko carefully shifted back and forth, creating a rut in the snow. It was strange, but sometimes the snow could provide a little insulation that way.

He had chosen very well for his hiding spot, but it was boring to wait, and he only getting colder by the minute. He sighed silently, thinking that next time he would stay near the roundhouse where it was warmer. He looked out from his half-sunken hole, and tried to count how many stars were dusted around the moon. There were many, and he kept losing his place. Before Zuko realized it, he had drifted off to sleep.

"Got you!"

Something shook his shoulder hard, pulling him out of a heavy doze. He groaned, and tried to get up, but his limbs felt stiff. He could hardly move.

"Get up!" Katara commanded. "I know you're there, Zuko!" She pulled on his parka, rolling him over so that he lay on his back. He could see her standing over him, grinning. "I already caught Sokka — he was cheating. He thought I wouldn't ever look in the boy's outhouse. So he's It … Zuko, c'mon. Get up!"

"I'm cold…" he groaned. He felt strangely lethargic, and numb.

Katara gave him a long look and then grabbed his arm, sitting him up.

He cupped his hands to his mouth, blowing into the mittens to get them warm the usual way — and then resorting to his breath of fire when that didn't work. He was able to blow steam; just enough to unfreeze his blood. The tongue of flame never came, though, and when he stood up he felt dizzy.

"What's wrong?" Katara asked.

"I don't know… I don't feel right."

Just then, Sokka came racing around the corner, counting as he went along. He had heard his siblings voices, and had been too excited to wait properly. "Ninety-nine! One-hundred! I found you!" He slapped Zuko's shoulder, "And you're It!" Then he seemed to realize that neither one of them were paying attention. "What's going on?"

"Zuko doesn't feel good. I told you that stupid jerky-eating contest was a bad idea."

If Zuko was feeling better, he wouldn't have missed the way Sokka's eyes widened ever so slightly before he gazed out to the dark horizon. "You can walk it off. I'll tell you what; I'll call this a redo," he said, generously, "and I'll go count again and you two can hide properly this time."

It sounded like a good idea, but Zuko only took four or five paces before a rolling shiver went down his spine, leaving him strangely breathless. "I don't feel much like playing anymore," he said, miserably wrapping his arms around himself. He just felt cold.

Again, there was an awkward pause from Sokka. "Maybe you should go lay down."

"Yeah… maybe." He shook his head, distracted, but took Sokka’s advice and went back to the family tent, and crawled back into his sleeping bag. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit his pillow.

By morning, his firebending had completely left him.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

Zuko didn't know what was going on, and of course there was no one to ask. But as the days wore on, his energy dwindled. It didn't matter how much he slept — and suddenly he was sleeping a lot — past even Sokka who could nearly out-sleep anyone.

Katara had to shake his shoulder hard to get him to wake up in the mornings for breakfast.

He seemed to be colder than everyone else, too. He was freezing no matter how many furs Gran-Gran made him wear, and at the gatherings at the roundhouse he'd often sit to the side and watch the dancing and singing with half hooded eyes — too exhausted and worn to join in for more than a few minutes at a time.

One morning, he awoke to the familiar sensation of someone shaking his shoulder. He expected Katara's high, slightly nagging voice telling him that he had missed breakfast again. Instead he got the soft authoritative command of Hakoda.

"Wake up, Zuko."

He struggled to sit up, and it was like pulling himself out of thick mud. His scarred left eye was stuck shut with sleep-gunk, and he rubbed at it absently with the back of his hand. For a moment, he worried that he was in trouble — Hakoda's face was full of concern as he handed him a parka to pull over his blue tunic.

"As soon as you're ready, we're going to visit Healer Kuthruk."

"He'll tell me why I'm tired all the time?" Zuko asked, around a jaw-cracking yawn.

Hakoda hesitated, and then nodded once.

Not only was it dark outside, but the wind was blowing so fiercely that Zuko would have pitched over quite a few times if not for Hakoda's steady hand on his shoulder. As it was, he found himself exhausted, and gratefully lay down on a bed pallet when Kuthruk went to examine him.

The healer's tent was warm — warmer than even Hakoda's, and filled with spicy herbs that mingled together in a pleasant sort of way. Zuko found himself drifting off to sleep again, even before he knew it.

Hakoda watched the healer work silently for a few minutes — pinching the sleeping boy's skin, listening to his heartbeat and breathing, and running a few sprigs of incense over him and watching the smoke intently to see which direction it blew.

Finally, Kuthruk turned to him and his blue eyes looked very tired.

"He's healthy, physically. I suspect something is happening with his chi, which is nearly impossible to test for without a waterbending healer." Kuthruk must have seen the look on his Chief's face, because he added, "Chief, you knew this could happen."

Hakoda rewarded him with a sharp look. "What do you suggest we do?"

He let out a long sigh, pulling at his short beard in thought. "Have him eat more vegetables. Plants get energy from the sun, and maybe that could help him get whatever he needs. Also, keep him away from anyone who's coughing. The last thing he needs is to catch something he can't fight off. Aside from that…" Kuthruk sighed again, and for the first time a flash of regret crossed his face. "He needs to know what he's facing. I know you've kept it from him, to spare him. But that's not an option anymore."

The Chief nodded, and went over to wake Zuko again. It took a few minutes to get him to sit up. Sometimes, Hakoda swore he could almost see the life leaking out of the boy.

"I didn't know I was asleep," Zuko muttered, rubbing again at his left eye, as if it was bothering him. "Did you find out what was wrong?"

Again, Hakoda hesitated. This was hard, he realized, harder than he thought it would be. Yet the child deserved the full truth. "Yes," he said, "we've suspected it for some time. You're a firebender, and you need the sun. Without it, you're getting weaker."

"Oh," he replied, without any interest, still rubbing at his eye. "I guess that's why the Fire Nation's at the equator then. Plenty of sun there…" He trailed off, his hand dropping away. "Wait, what do you mean you've _suspected_? You knew, and you didn't tell me? I haven't been able to firebend for weeks, and you didn't tell me?!"

This was the most alive Hakoda had seen him for some time, and he was almost glad for it — despite the insolence. "It was my decision." He put both his hands on Zuko's thin shoulders, only to have his touch shrugged away.

"You should have told me! I'm not a baby!"

"Zuko, you need to calm yourself." Hakoda did not mean for so much disapproval to enter his voice, and he did feel a pang of guilt when the boy shrank back. "I did it because I didn't want to worry you. We didn't know for certain that this would happen," he said, and then added, "I know you're a young man. I'll try not to forget that, next time."

This seemed to mollify the boy slightly, although his pale cheek was still flushed with anger. He looked away, for a long moment, and Hakoda braced himself for the question he knew was coming: _Was he going to die?_

And at that moment, the Chief felt like the worst kind of coward, because he would have given nearly anything to not have to tell the truth.

When Zuko spoke, though, his voice was small, and the question wholly surprised him. "So are you going to have to send me away?" Before Hakoda could answer, Zuko continued, "I don't want to go back. I don't care if the Fire Nation gets sun all the time — I don't ever want to go back there ever again."

"No, you will not be sent back." He made sure to meet the boy's eyes as he answered, and was surprised at the naked relief that was there. Bato had been correct at the tribal meeting; Zuko wanted to be Water Tribe more than anything. And Hakoda wondered, briefly, what kind of fierce loyalty existed in Fire Nation blood, and if they were all so determined once they had made their mind. "But that means you have to be strong. We still have a month and a half of darkness ahead."

Kuthruk coughed from his corner where he had been watching the exchange, silently. "Actually, the winter solstice is only three weeks away. It stands to reason if this is somehow connected to the sun, he may get better after that time."

"Why?" Zuko asked, turning to him.

The healer held up his hand, clenched in a fist. "Right now our part of the world is tilting from the sun," he said, pointing to the heel of his palm. "After the solstice, it will begin to turn back." And his wrist flexed, moving his fist to the other direction.

"So… only three more weeks?" Zuko repeated, and he drew himself up, glancing from the healer to his adoptive father. "That's easy. I can do it."

"Good boy." Hakoda smiled and ruffled his hair, and got a tentative grin in return.

He almost believed him.

During the next night's gathering, Hakoda saw Zuko playing with his two other children. They had found the wolfskin warrior helmets and he and Sokka were busy chasing Katara around the fire and spooking some of the toddlers. And if Zuko was slower in step than Sokka, Hakoda chose not to notice. He was satisfied that the boy was putting more effort into things, and turned back to his conversation with Bato.

Later on, he would find Zuko curled up asleep in a corner, helmet still on his head. He was in such a listless daze that Hakoda had to carry him back to their tent.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

"Sokka," Katara whispered, nearly two weeks later. "Is Zuko gonna die?"

Sokka quickly shushed her, and sent a guilty look towards the boy he thought more and more as his younger brother. He was sleeping by the fire, his face pale and drawn. Nowadays, he wouldn't wake up hardly at all, except when forced by Gran-Gran to sit up and drink some broth.

Kuthruk had been called again, and both Katara and Sokka had seen the way the grizzled healer examined him, shook his head, and pulled Hakoda to the side to have a meaningful conversation outside the door.

"He's just not feeling good, because the Fire Nation worship’s the sun instead of the moon like normal people," Sokka said, wisely. "He'll be better, after the solstice. Dad said." Actually, Hakoda's talk with his eldest son had been a much grimmer tone than that, but Sokka instinctually wanted to shield Katara from what he could. He hated to see her cry.

Katara looked down. She had one of her favorite dolls in her lap, and she was alternately hugging it and smoothing out the thick threads in its hair. "I don't think he's going to make it to the solstice," she whispered, softly.

"Of course he is. Zuko's just not going to give up."

His little sister was looking to him now, and Sokka forced a smile on his face, even though he felt like he was suffocating inside. He couldn't show any of that, though. He was always telling Zuko to be strong, but Dad expected Sokka to be stronger. And if that meant not showing how worried he was, and covering it up as best he could with humor… he could do that.

For the first time in his young life, but certainly not for the last time, Sokka decided that he didn't want to understand any of his crazy bending stuff. He preferred to live in the world of the logical and the sane, thank you very much. He lived in a world where people didn't just… fade away because of the sun. It didn't make any sense. None of this stupid magic stuff made any sense.

The door’s fur flap was pushed aside, and his father walked back into the tent. Kuthruk was gone, but Bato and Gran-Gran had taken his place.

Hakoda's eyes met his across the tent, and Sokka's felt his stomach drop. Whatever had been said outside hadn't been good news at all. Sokka would have cursed, if Gran-Gran wasn't so close to hear.

"C'mon, Katara. It's too hot in here." Which was the truth. They had the fire going as hot as possible in the tent, trying to keep Zuko warm. Not that it was doing any good. "Let's get to the roundhouse."

Katara wasn't fooled, not for one moment. She bit her lip and looked from Sokka and back to the sleeping Zuko.

But Sokka curled his hand about hers, and tugged her to the door. The adults were off to the side, and he didn't want Katara to hear anything that would upset her. His little sister still hesitated, and Sokka blew out an annoyed breath. "Look," he said, and his voice was slightly sharper than he intended, "Zuko didn't come all this way, get dropped on his head while penguin sledding, and nearly drown, just to die now. C'mon."

This seemed to convince her more than anything else, and with a final long look back over her shoulder she joined her brother.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

Hakoda waited for Sokka to drag Katara out of the tent, before he turned and sat by the sick child again. Zuko was curled almost dangerously close to the fire, as if straining to get close to it. His eyes flicked back and forth under closed lids; he was dreaming, and Hakoda hoped for his sake that it was a good dream.

Kuthruk's final prognosis a few minutes ago outside had been a death sentence. "I think he will pass in his sleep in the next few days." He had said, "The best thing to do is to keep him comfortable… He won't feel a thing, Hakoda." The healer then put a hand to his shoulder in a gesture of sympathy, before taking up his things and trudging away. There was nothing more he could do.

Kana took her place on the other side of the boy. "It was very much like this, before." She didn't have to say when. They both knew she was speaking of the firebenders in the North.

There was a soft clink of a bottle while Bato fished around the tent for the rough-grain alcohol, hidden away for special — or horrible, occasions.

It had been a long time since Kana had tried to mother him. When he had taken his father's place as Chief, she had drawn back, which was only right. Hakoda wondered briefly how terrible his face must have looked, if she felt the need to reassure him now.

There was a murmur of success somewhere from Bato's direction, and a few moments later a mug of mulled rum was pressed into Hakoda's hands. It was a rough kind of alcohol, but if anyone needed it right now, it was him.

"Seeing a child die isn't easy for anyone," said Bato softly, sitting down to join them in their vigil. "But we knew going in this would be the kindest end he could have. Drink up, Chief."

Hakoda did what he was told, wincing against the harsh burn. Bato took his own drink, although Kana did not partake. There was a grim sort of silence between the three adults, punctuated only by the soft gasps of the slowly dying boy beside them.

"It's not fair to Katara and Sokka. They grew… attached." Hakoda murmured, at last, looking into his mug.

Bato sighed. "I think it's you who's grown attached." It had been much like what Kana had said — all the life out of him had just wilted away without the sun. And no, it wasn't fair. Zuko might be Fire Nation, but he turned out to be a good kid. "But since when has life ever been fair for us Water Folk?" he asked, speaking his thoughts out loud.

The boy shifted beside them, eyes darting at a frantic pace under his lids, and his hand curled into a fist. "Father…" he whispered, and Hakoda visibly gave a start. Zuko winced in his sleep and murmured pained, low. "I'm sorry."

Something felt like it snapped in Hakoda's chest, and he had to close his eyes against the pain. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he said, when he was able to speak. Reaching down, he rested his hand against the Zuko's forehead, finding it cold and dry. "You are very brave."

The boy let out a long breath, and his movements stilled as he fell back into a more natural sleep.

The adults grew respectfully silent again, but Zuko had been oblivious to their words before, and they knew logically he had been only dreaming.

"I didn't think it would be this hard." Bato's words seemed to surprise even him, and he gave a sort of a shrug, drinking deeply of his rum as if he just wanted to forget what he said. He had lost more to the Fire Nation than nearly everyone else in the tribe. He shouldn't be mourning like this.

But something in his words seemed to jerk a reaction out of Hakoda. He took a final swig of the rum and then set it down, wiping his mouth on the edge of a sleeve. "This test has gone too far. I'm taking him out. If I can get north, the sun will be shining. It may not be too late…" He stood up, but Bato had as well, and was blocking his path before he could make a step to go outside.

"You can't do this, Hakoda," Bato said lowly, urgently. "I know this hurts… Everyone knew this would hurt. And that's why the tribe wanted you to do it, in the end. You can't go back on your own orders, now!"

"He's dying! You can't expect me just to stand to the side and watch…" he trailed off and let out a low, breathless laugh, "and watch one of my own son's die."

He tried to shove past Bato, but the alcohol had hit his empty stomach hard, and his friend easily shoved him back and down again into.

"Sit down and listen to me!" Bato snarled, "What if you do this thing, and he survives? What then? You would have gone back on your own word, and your honor with the Tribe will be gone. Oh yes, that'll be good for Sokka and Katara. And what of Zuko? He won't be accepted and we will be back exactly where we were before — either sending him to the Earth Kingdom to be torn apart by an angry mob, or burned alive at the Fire Nation." He met Hakoda's eyes, glare for glare. The absurdity of what they were arguing about flashed across Bato's face, and he grinned, tempering his own words. "And the Tribe will have to name me Chief, and then you'll have to listen to me no matter what."

Hakoda snorted and looked away, although his temper had gone to a simmer. Some of what Bato had said penetrated his mind. "Until that happens, _I_ am Chief," he said, after a long moment, and stood up. Bato could see the determination in his eyes. He fully meant to go through with this crazy task.

"Hakoda, if this is the will of the Spirits, you have to let it be," murmured Kana, softly.

The Chief paused at the fur doorflap, and then shook his head, pushing it aside and walking out.

It would take him a few hours to get the canoe packed and ready. In that time, almost as if the Spirits themselves were listening to Kana's words, a fierce storm blew in on the village.

The people of the Water Tribe were more than up to the challenge, and strung long lengths of rope from one tent to another so no one would get lost in the near whiteout blizzard. No one could even go outside without being blown over.

And, standing at the doorway with a length of fabric across his face to protect his skin from the scouring wind, Hakoda had to admit defeat. He couldn't bring Zuko out in this.

The child would die.

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

"Zuko, get up." Katara shook his shoulder steadily, noticing how cold he was, even though he slept right by the fire. She was nearly sweating under her clothes. She glanced around, checking to make sure the rest of her family were still sleeping. Dad and Gran-Gran didn't want her bugging Zuko, and Sokka would only scoff and laugh at her idea. She bent down, hissing in his unburned ear. "C'mon, Zuko. Get up. I want to show you something." She shook him again. "It's important."

His breathing was so shallow it was hardly there at all. Finally, he rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes. They were so dull it was like looking at a field of dried yellowed weeds, parched and dead. "What?" he rasped.

"Look." She held out her hand, a ball of cooling water cupped within.

He stared at it, dumbly. "That's… great, Katara." He closed his eyes. "Go away… I'm tired."

"No, you aren't looking." She shook his shoulder again until he opened his eyes. "I know you're not feeling good. I'd feel horrible if someone took away my bending, and it's the full moon and everything! I was thinking… you're doing this all wrong. Dad and Sokka keep telling you to be strong, but that's not it. You gotta be like the _water_, Zuko."

He didn't say anything, but she could tell she had his attention. At the very least, his eyes seemed to focus a little. Katara was encouraged. She went on, "Right now, you're like an ember that's going out, right? But water doesn't burn out. It freezes, or it steams, but it never goes away. It just changes."

"I don't…"

She sighed. Males could be so thick sometimes. "A Fire Nation boy would die 'cause there's no sun, but you're not Fire Nation anymore. Everyone says that you're Water Tribe now."

She held out the glob of water, and after a moment Zuko reached out towards it, covering his hand over it like they had done the first time they bended. Maybe it was Katara's imagination, but she swore that the water glowed a brilliant blue — just for a moment, between their fingers.

Zuko dropped his hand away, all the strength gone. "I'm Water Tribe," he mumbled, eyes sliding shut.

"And Water Tribe boys don't die 'cause of the sun. They just adapt." she told him. And the corner of Zuko's mouth twitched upward before he sank again into oblivion.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

Zuko passed the day of Winter Solstice in what was more or less a coma. The bottom of the world was tilted the furthest away from the sun as it was ever going to get, and there was hardly a scrap of life left in his body.

Kana, Kuthruk, and Hakoda took turns to keep him company, and when Katara and Sokka weren't looking, pressing a hand to the scarred neck to see if there was still a pulse.

The next day, Zuko stirred and opened his eyes. Two days after that, he was able to sit up and told Kana that he was hungry.

Day by day, he grew stronger. Once he was sure he would live, Hakoda gave out a tacit reminder during the night's gathering that Zuko had indeed passed the Spiritual test, and that he was Water Tribe. No one dissented from this, because it was a tight knit community and even the most jaded adult had seen that the boy had suffered, and lived, where others of his kind had not. The general consensus was that it meant there was something good — something Water Tribe — inside of him. And slowly, he stopped being the Fire Nation child, and started being the second son of Hakoda — brother to Sokka and Katara.

One night, almost a month and a half after Zuko lay on his deathbed, Katara woke up to see her him slip out of the family tent. Curious, she pulled on her own parka and followed him. It was easy; a new layer of snow had fallen recently, and his footsteps were clearly visible even in the dark.

She found him just outside the village, facing east. Hearing her approach, he turned and spoke. "Do you feel it?"

"What? The wind?" She shivered and pulled her hood up.

"No." He pointed out to the east where a slight glow had been visible for days. "The sun."

She shook her head, and stood next to him, watching together as the glow slowly brightened more and more into a pearly luminescence. Zuko took deep breaths, in through his nose and exhaling out his mouth. On his forth breath, a slight sheen of yellow sun peeked just over the horizon.

Her brother visibly shivered, and then grinned, holding out his hand. A spark of flame lit, and even when the sun sank down again not fifteen minutes later, the flame both in his hand and deep within him continued bright and strong.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

Notes: Some parts were left vague on purpose, including the exact reasons why Zuko survived. More explanation will be given later in the series, but it has to do with his Spiritual state of mind. (And no, he did not gain his memories back, but a couple of them in particular are still floating around in his head, just out of reach)

**Next: TIME SKIP! (Also, bending, southern lights, water fights, and a really eventful canoeing accident.)**

 

 


	7. A Sea Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fantastic art "Fishing--Sokka Style" provided by Golden Flute! (http://golden-flute.deviantart.com/art/ATLA-Fishing-Sokka-Style-113298031)

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes:**  This is kind of a strange chapter. The first three quarters or so is comprised of loose drabbles. It's all in order as the kids grow older. Luckily, the last quarter of the fic is something… a little more cohesive which I hope you guys like. **:D**

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

“There is a storm coming. A big one.”

\- Iroh, The Storm

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

Zuko gasped in a deep breath and then plunged overboard. The water closed in from every side, needling his skin with freezing cold. He ignored it, kicking his legs and reaching out to grasp an underwater rock.

He had calculated his position perfectly. In the cold, clear summer water everything had been visible from the surface. Now that he was under, features and objects were more or less a blur. He reached out, searching for a splash of red gripping an underwater rock, and once he found it, he stuck his pry under and heaved upward. The shell popped off with a soft _shawooping_ sound. Grabbing it, feeling the burn of old air in his lungs, he kicked off the bottom and shot back up to the top.

His head broke the surface with a gasp, and he reached out, hauling himself back up to his canoe. He lay on his back for a few moments, letting the weak summer sun melt into his skin, and staring up into the impossibly blue sky. Then, with a wince (because the butt of his pry was digging into his skin) he sat up, and dug his hard-won prize out of the seal-skin sack.

It was a rust red, bumpy oblong. A shell with a crease down the middle that, when boiled, would open easily. Zuko tossed it in the bucket with a dozen others. They were Katara's favorite, both for their taste and the likelihood of finding pearls inside, and he was determined that she would have as much as she wanted on her upcoming birthday.

Just a few more, and he would be done.

Once again, Zuko went to the side of his canoe and peered down into the clear water, choosing his next target.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

The people in the Water Tribe believed that the colorful southern lights in the night sky was a veiled curtain between their world and the world of the Spirits; that the great ancestors looked down upon them from the gap. And if you looked very hard – you could see the faces of the ones you lost gazing back down at you with love in their eyes.

Zuko knew for a fact that Sokka didn't believe any of it, because he had said so on a number of occasions. Sokka believed there had to be some other, some more rational explanation.

"I don't know what it is, but I'm sure someone will figure it out sometime. Maybe it has to do with the moon," he said wisely, one day while they were practicing hitting far off targets with their boomerangs.

Katara, on the other hand, did. More than once Zuko had seen her look up to the southern lights and raise her hand, as if in greeting. He never asked who she saw in the sky — probably her mother.

As for himself, he at first looked towards the waving green and blue tinged veils with more than a little trepidation. Would he see his blood mother and father glaring down at him, evil, and snapping like the fire itself?

But he never did. Maybe, he thought, half-asleep one night with the southern lights crackling overhead. Maybe because he was Hakoda's son, his ancestors were now different, too. Maybe his Fire Nation ancestors couldn't see him from up high because he would just look like any other Water Tribe boy.

Comforted by this, he finally fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

"What do you think?" asked Sokka, anxiously.

Zuko couldn't answer right away. He was too busy coughing, doubling over, pressing in on his stomach in order to force its contents to stay there and not come back up and embarrass him. "Strong!" he gasped at last, pushing the stolen liquor bottle back into Sokka's hands. "Your turn."

"Hmm…" Sokka examined the label again, carefully wiping away some dust from the characters. With a shrug, he put the bottle to his lips and took a swig of his own — a smaller one than his hapless brother. He didn't cough nearly as much, although the strong spirit did burn all the way down. "I guess you just have to be a real man to enjoy it," he concluded at last.

This earned him a dirty look from Zuko's general direction. "I can't believe they like to drink this stuff," he grumbled, taking another swig.

"Think of it this way. We're getting our practice in so when they do let us drink in a few years, we won't embarrass ourselves." Sokka took his turn at the bottle. "I kinda like it."

"No you don't."

"Well, no. But now no one will know."

Presently, Zuko started to feel a little dizzy. He sat down in the cooling snow, and looked over the vista of their village. He and Sokka had chosen their little hiding spot well — they would be able to see anyone coming (especially a suspicious father) well before anyone could see them.

If being drunk made Zuko quiet and contemplative, it had the exact opposite effect on his elder brother. Sokka became even more animated and chatty, talking out loud to him well after Zuko had stopped bothering to answer.

Over all, it was a pleasant experience… even if they did end up stumbling, more or less, back to the tent. And somehow, Sokka had lost his best pair of mittens in the snow.

The next morning was an entirely different story.

Hakoda could hardly not notice the green, pained expression on his two son’s faces the next morning, or the way both of them winced whenever there was a loud noise. He didn't need to check the supply cave to know that one of the bottles of rum would be missing. Sokka and Zuko thought they were clever — and most of the time, they were — but neither one of them was the trouble maker Hakoda had been as a boy. He knew a hangover when he saw one.

It wasn't Hakoda's style to pull both boys aside and lecture them. No, he was more creative than that.

Instead, he put them on rowing duty for the day, which was hard, tough work. The sea was deliciously choppy, and he made sure to sit out of range when both boys inevitably lost their breakfasts over the side of the canoe. He didn't offer any sympathy, instead fixed them both with a glare that cut off any request to return to shore.

"If you two want the privileges of men, you've got to earn your work like men." And that was all he ever said about it.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

"Zuko! Wake up!"

He struggled against the amber tinged terrors in his mind. It was like fighting against a black veil which only folded deeper with every movement.

He cried out, reaching for his attacker, and when his hands gasped against boney wrists — solid and real, he woke up to find himself face to face with Katara, hovering over him.

"It's okay," she whispered, meeting his wide, frightened gaze with an understanding sort of calm. "It was just a nightmare."

Zuko gulped in air like a dying fish. His heart felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest. But all was quiet in the tent; he could hear the crackle of the fire and the call of some kind of night bird. And Sokka's soft snores from his left assured him that his thrashing had mostly gone unnoticed. All of the children slept together, as was done in the Water Tribe.

He was still holding her wrists, and once he realized this he released them at once.

"Sorry," he muttered, laying back down, and trying to calm his hitched breathing.

Katara was quiet for a long time, and he thought that she had gone back to sleep until she spoke, "You were dreaming about the girl again, weren't you?"

Her whisper was so quiet, he could have pretended to ignore it. But there wasn't a point. She was right, anyway. "Yeah."

She didn't say anything more, and he rolled over, facing away from her. But every time he closed his eyes on that night he saw the girl's face; her evil amber eyes, and a laughing, taunting voice he couldn't understand.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

And suddenly, Sokka realized that his younger brother had grown taller than him.

He didn't know when _that_ had happened. One day they were playing around the fort, Sokka tackled Zuko and brought the pipsqueak down into the snow… and it seemed like the next day they were carrying firewood back to the camp and Sokka had to look up to meet Zuko's eyes.

It _so_ wasn't fair, and when he made the mistake of complaining about it, he got to hear Katara and Zuko make short-jokes all day.

Sokka got his private revenge, a few days later. They were hunting with Bato and their father, tracking down a herd of moose-caribou. The boys, with their young eyes, were the first to spot a mess of antlers; just visible over the ridge.

"Over here!" Sokka yelled. There was no point in being quiet; the animals had backed themselves up against the sea. They had them trapped.

"What are we—" and in those three syllables, Zuko somehow managed to convey three entirely separate octaves. He stopped, gripping his own throat in shock.

Hakoda and Bato joined up with the boys just about the time Sokka had stopped laughing.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

"They're coming back."

Katara's voice was quiet, pensive. Zuko stared into the campfire, watching the orange glow for a long moment before he raised his head, following her glance.

He could them off in the distance; Dad had his arm thrown over Sokka's shoulder, and by the slumped, dejected look in Sokka's gait, Zuko knew without question that had been told he couldn't come to war.

He would never, ever tell Sokka (he hated to admit it even to himself), but at that moment Zuko felt relieved. He didn't want Sokka to go off to war, and leave him and Katara all alone with the women and kids. The Fire Nation was cruel and heartless, and if his brother was going to war, Zuko wanted to be along with him — so they could watch each other's backs like they had done all along.

As the pair drew closer, Katara and Zuko stood up to greet them. Zuko could see where Sokka's face-paint had been washed away by tears. He looked away, pretending not to see, and focused instead on his dad.

Hakoda's face was grim —it seemed like he hadn't cracked a smile for weeks. Not since the plea come by messenger for aid. When he addressed his children, it was with a certain distance in his voice, as if he couldn't stand to be warm to them in this moment, or else he wouldn't be able to leave.

"The Earth Kingdom are our allies, and they have requested our help. The Fire Lord has stepped up his attacks recently; he's planning something, and the only hope now to stop him is to combine our forces."

"Dad…" Katara whispered, but didn't finish.

Turning, Hakoda addressed his sons. "Sokka, Zuko, you two will need to be the Tribe's warriors while we are gone. Kana will direct you, but as the men you will have your say in defense. Sokka, that will mean you especially, as eldest. Both of you, listen to your Gran-Gran, but also listen to your heart and your judgment."

Zuko swallowed hard past tears that threatened to come up and nodded, coming to stand by Sokka. "We will," they both murmured.

Hakoda nodded, swallowing as well. This was just hard, if not harder, for him. Then he turned to his daughter. "Katara—"

But he didn't get to finish, because she had flung her arms around his waist, sobbing. Then Sokka turned, and Zuko stepped forward and they all hugged him — as hard and as long as they could, because they all knew this might be for the last time.

Hakoda touched their heads, murmured words that were meant to comfort, but were meaningless. But the ships were ready, and eventually he had to draw back.

They all watched him go, and stood by the shore until the wooden ships with the blue sails were nothing but dark points on the horizon.

Later in life, Zuko would look back on that day and decide that was the one where he stopped feeling like a child. As they all turned and trudged back to the village — so empty and so dead without the men — he met eyes with Sokka and knew that there would be no more fooling around… no more games. Their father had left them with a task, and they were not going to fail.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

Zuko's voice was first to break, but Sokka was the one who was the first to shave. He refused, at first, attempting to grow out the peach-fuzz on his upper lip into a proper mustache. But it was sparse at best, and when it became apparent that only one half would grow in properly, he had to admit defeat.

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

The sun had risen only a quarter high in the sky, shining its weak light upon the bright snowy landscape. Past the small huddle of dwellings and just up the coast there were a series of rocky-shale hills. It was the only place within walking distance from the village where the sun was able to truly bake in, helped by the rock underneath, and melt back the snow and ice during the warmer months. Yet the shale was loose, always crumbling down, and so grey and desolate that not even hardy artic brambles could take hold.

The only sign of life came from snow-melted water; streaming in rivets from higher peaks and valleys, and trickling down between the cracks and chipped stone before finally traveling out to the sea.

Two figures stood side-by-side in the middle of a small dip formed by two grey hills. At first look, it seemed as if the two were dancing — something ancient, yet strong and powerful and immeasurably graceful. The boy and girl swept their arms around in graceful loops, feet centered to the ground, and above them in the sky duel ribbons of water and fire flicked about to the left and to the right.

The two stopped, recalling their elements into globes in their hands before twisting them out again around their very bodies. Fire snapped and coiled about Zuko's frame like a beautiful and dangerous ribbon. Katara's water copied him almost exactly, but her stream was cool, thick and strong. Where his element looked like it was ready to snap out and enflame someone with a vengeance, hers was ready to defend, to cool and heal.

Occasionally, either Zuko or Katara would fall out of sync. After all, their elements were opposites, and Zuko had to make his movements quicker, more forceful. Katara, for her part needed to almost always be in motion; channeling the water, pushing and pulling it through the air.

She was the one keeping the pace; directing their shared set of katas that they had spent the last few years together carefully etching out of nothing more than vague ideas and determination.

"Okay, and now… out," she said, and both shifted into a low crouch; Katara flicking out her water into a sharp point of a spear as if to impale an enemy. Zuko's own fire lashed out as a lance. Both elements went to the length of their control — about thirty feet away or so, before the benders reeled them in.

"And defend." Katara commanded.

This time their movements were once again in unison. Both swept their arms inward and up, settling them like a shield in front of thief faces. Their elements leapt to their movements and a thick wall of ice and fire erupted before each of them. They let this hold for the count of three before dropping their stances.

It was the end. Twenty minutes work, and they had gone though all the katas that they had created. It was better than nothing, but learning new forms from zero reference and with no help was deeply frustrating… for both of them.

Katara sighed and let her water run from her fingers and back to the ground. Zuko sent his flames back to the camp-fire he had built to cook their lunch with. He preferred to always have a supply of fire with him when he practiced, like a waterbender, rather than generate it himself. That way he could match Katara's fluid movements with more ease.

"Real benders with masters practice from sun up to sun down," he grumbled, stretching down to touch his toes. He hadn't understood at the time, now years past, why Katara was so anxious to meet another bender. Now he knew. He could feel the bite of impatience each and every time their forms ended, along with something else, something sad. It was a craving that was not so different from hunger or thirst.

Katara walked to the campfire to check on their roasting lunch. The fish was still sizzling softly, propped up over the V of two sticks. It would still be a few minutes before they could eat.

She glanced up at his words and frowned. "Don't start talking like that," she commanded, pointing a twig at him. "I am a _real_ bender, and you are too." Although, she did look a bit wistful at having nothing to do all day but practice. As it was, the rest of the tribe could only spare them for an hour a day at most… and they had to do it during lunch.

"It's just… There's more. There's so much more we could do, and I wish I could remember it!" He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, almost as if wishing he could press the knowledge out. Of course, nothing came. Nothing ever came.

Katara sent a sidelong glance to him over the campfire. "It's okay. We'll figure it out… somehow."

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Zuko sighed, and cursed Katara one more time for falling so inconveniently sick with the flu. With her out, it had fallen to him to teach the little kids how to knot proper nets. He was no good at dealing with children, partially because he didn't remember being a small child, and partially because he was impatient.

"Tuktu, start that row again," he said, bending down, and with a swift tug unknotted the imperfect work. "You are going to have to rely on this net, so make it good and strong."

Tuktu's younger brother, Denahi held up his net, grinning a gap-toothed grin. "Zuko, how's this?"

He took the net into his hands. The knots were good enough, but, "You're weaving the net too tightly," he said, absently, handing it back and looking around to make sure the rest of the kids were still doing what they should be doing. "You're not fishing for an octopus."

"What's an octopus?"

Zuko glanced down at the boy in surprise. He had said that, hadn't he? "It's… just an old saying, I think. Never mind." He shook his head as if to clear it stood up. Where had that come from?

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

"No, that can't be right." And with a quick swipe, Sokka grabbed the scroll out of Katara's hands, unrolled it, and turned it to the side, as if seeing it from a new angle would be better. A pause, and then. "There's no way this can be right."

Zuko came up from behind him, and his unburned eye widened as he, too, saw the grim figures. "That's all that's left?" He was always quicker to go from shock to anger, and he whirled around towards Gran-Gran. "But we've been gathering all season, and there are half as many people to feed. What happened?"

"Weevil-rats got into some of the fish-salt barrels last spring, remember?" Katara reminded him.

"Yes, but—"

Their Gran-Gran cut in, her stately voice rising above her grandchildren's initial shock. "The fact of it is that many of us elderly can't provide as well as we used too. These old hands just aren't very fast at picking and fishing, and with the men gone…" she gave a sigh, and gently tugged the scroll from Sokka's hands, rolling it up with a sort of finality.

"We'll take care of it, Gran-Gran." Sokka's eyes met with Zuko's, and they nodded at each other, set and determined. Dad had told them to protect the tribe, and they would. It was their job to be the men now, and to provide. "There's at least three weeks until it gets too dark to hunt," Sokka continued, "We can take the sledge and the dogs. If we bring home even a couple of Tiger-Seals…"

"We are all going to get sick on too much seal jerky," Katara groaned.

Sokka looked offended. "Sick of jerky? How can you get sick of jerky?"

"Not everyone can just live off meat alone, Sokka!" she snapped, then shook her head and pushed a piece of hair back to the nape of her neck. No one was going to say it, but she saw it on her brother's faces all the same: They wished that Dad was here. He would know what to do. How she wished…

But wishing wasn't going to do anything. He wasn't here. He had left them to fight war in a far distant continent, and Katara felt a flare of irrational anger which she quickly shoved away. She would deal with that, later.

"Alright," she said, "me and Gran-Gran will organize the women and the children while you two hunt. We'll need greens: grasses, kelp, berries, and winterfruit." She cast around for a spare bit of parchment to write on while she spoke, all the while ignoring the slight gagging sounds that Sokka was making at the mention of plant-stuff.

"There have been shortages in the past," Gran-Gran said, "worse than this, and we have survived it. We may have to ration ourselves, but we will survive."

"I never feel much like eating anyway, in the winter," Zuko muttered, quietly.

If this was his idea of a joke, Katara didn't appreciate it. She shot him a dark look. The first winter had been by far the worst, with each following being a little easier for him to endure.

Zuko was still dead to the world around the solstice, and Katara had grown to hate that time of year; seeing him comatose and curled around a fire he couldn't feel.

"Great!" Sokka, of course, had a whole different perspective on things. He threw his arm about Zuko's shoulders, all good humor restored now that they had a plan. "I'll just have your ration, then."

Katara was appalled. "Sokka!"

Kana regarded her grandchildren, and her blue eyes sparkled with pride. This was the next generation of leaders for her tribe, and they were young, far too young to have this burden. But they were all shouldering it well.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

The events leading up to the return of Sozin's comet would be something that historians would detail and attempt to recount for generations to come. There were many dissenting opinions on the exact date of Avatar Aang's return to the world, but the majority believed it to be the second day of the eleventh month in the year of the monkey.

Even in high summer, the Antarctic land was frosted in white. The short summer with had no purchase on the cool springs and autumn, and brutal winters. The areas of melt were few and far between.

Out to sea, all was blue and calm with neither wind or fog to obscure the day. The air was so clean, the sky and water such a deep blue that they were discernable from each other only from caps of icebergs gently bobbing in the water. High overhead, four-winged pigeon-gulls called to each other in high voices of complaint; wheeling, and diving. The only dab of color aside from white of ice and deep navy of the water was a small smudge of brown; a single canoe, hugging along the jagged ice coastline.

The three occupants, teenagers with only a year or so between them, were dressed in the traditional light blues and purples Southern Water Tribe. The two boys sitting in the front cut through the water with sure, even strokes with flat wooden paddles. The girl, younger than both of them, sat in the back with her hand steady on the rudder.

Finally, they came to a place where the water cut into the land, creating a small inlet bay. Paddles were put away. The boy at the front of the canoe, handsome and tanned with light blue eyes and hair shaved on both sides of his head with the top piece pulled back wolf-tail, leaned forward; spear in hand and eagerly gazing into the deep waters in search of a flicker of shadow.

The girl in back rolled her eyes at her brother's concentration, and when she gazed into the water it was to look at the brilliant reflection of the sky playing across the surface rather than to hunt. She was young, but already lovely with a soft face and her hair pulled back into a complicated braid with two hair loops dangling from each side.

The boy in the middle, taller than the other two, was distinguished by scars across his face and neck, gold eyes, and pale skin. He had shaggy raven black hair which today was let down — two blue beads weaved into a piece which sat next to the whole side of his face.

Something in the water caught the girl's attention. Her eyebrows knit and she shifted her weight, leaning forward to peer below the surface.

The movement rocked the canoe slightly, and the boy in front sat up to glare at his sister. "Hey, you're going to scare away all the fish!"

Katara's eyes widened focusing on a dart of a flounder-trout, lazing just below the surface. "Sokka, I think—"

"Shhh!" Sokka had gone back to his intense search. The point of his spear dipped below the surface, just for a moment. But the dark shape in the water was just a piece of kelp, and not a juicy, delicious fish. He made a face and used the butt of the spear to flip it aside before peering again. "It's not getting away from me this time."

Katara shot an exasperated glance at Sokka's back, and then to Zuko who just shrugged at her. He was busy lounging back, face tilted to the sun, the paddle resting casually across his lap. In contrast to the dark southern winters, he hardly got any sleep in the summer, and any moment of drowsiness was welcome.

"Here fishy, fishy…" Sokka whispered, in direct contrast to the order he had just given to stay quiet. The corner of his tongue poked out the corner of his mouth. "Come to Sokka…"

Katara narrowed her eyes and turned back to the water. The fish was still there, almost lazing gently just under the surface. If only she had a spear — her small net would never do, and both her brothers jealously guarded theirs. The fish seemed almost close enough to touch. In fact…

Tugging off her mitten with her teeth, Katara glanced one final time at the boys — neither were paying attention — before she reached out her hand, carefully moving it up and down in a slow wave.

The water rippled to her command and with an uplift of her hand a shaky globe of water sprung to the surface, the fish trapped neatly within. A grin crossed Katara's face; she had never even attempted anything like this before, and she got it on the first try! "Sokka, Zuko! Look!"

Zuko cracked open his unscarred eye, and had the decency to look mildly impressed. Sokka, meanwhile, had not turned around.

"Katara, I'm trying to fish, here!"

"But Sokka, look!" The globe of water floated upward to her command until it was hovering just over their heads. Katara grinned in triumph. "I caught one!"

Suddenly, a small stream of fire slipped through the air like a tiny orange spring, landing with a small hiss of steam right on the surface of the globe. It was a tiny impact, but enough to break Katara's concentration, and the globe disintegrated in mid-air. Zuko had timed it well: not only did Sokka get soaked, but the fish hit him on the back of the head on its way down.

"Hey!" Katara yelped.

Sokka sputtered, and his spear slipped from his grasp, falling into the water before bobbing up to the surface again just out of reach. He turned, his blue eyes snapping. "How come every time you two play with magic, I get soaked?"

"It made you look, didn't it?" Zuko drawled, not impressed by the dramatic way his elder brother wrung out the edge of his parka. He didn't get him _that_ wet.

"Zuko, that was my fish!" snapped Katara, "And it's not magic, Sokka. It's—"

"Yeah, yeah. An ancient art unique to our culture." Sokka rolled his eyes before he snatched Zuko's long spear and bent over the side of the canoe again, using it as a hook to reel his own weapon back. "Tell you what. I'll match your magic waterbending to my skillful hunting, and we'll see which actually works."

"Well, I already would have one if Zuko didn't get jealous and ruin it! Ugh! You two are so—"

But Katara never got to tell them exactly what she thought. The canoe rocked again, and the three Water Tribe siblings looked up to see that they had drifted into a fast-draining current. It was taking them swiftly out to open water, and worse, right into the middle of a field of icebergs.

The boys grabbed their paddles, and dug in. It was no use trying to fight the current; it was too strong. Their only hope was to cut across, parallel to the shore. Unfortunately, that way was strewn with icebergs — deceptively tranquil on the surface, but massive below water with sides as sharp as razors.

From her seat on back, Katara gripped the rudder and barked out orders. "Left! Left! Sokka, your other left!"

But they were well within the icy grip of the current, and heading full speed between two icebergs, to a path too narrow for the canoe pass through. Zuko turned, barking out, "Katara, push them away!"

"I… I can't!"

"A little help over here, Zuko!" Sokka yelled.

It was too late. The nose of their boat hit just as the ice-bergs crashed together. The canoe tilted upward, pitching all three of them out, yelling in surprise and shock, onto the flat ice, before it fell back down into the water again, split into two, and promptly sank.

"Great… just great." Sokka sat up, rubbing his head, and glared at his brother. "You call that paddling?"

"Me? At least I was going in the right direction!"

Katara got painfully to her feet, dusted loose snow off her parka, and looked around. It wasn't good. They were stranded on a large iceberg, which floated on the edge of the current. Every second took them further and further away from land and out to the ice-fields. Behind her, the two brothers continued bickering.

"Well, lazy, if you put some effort into paddling—"

"Lazy?! I was paddling on the _correct_ side—"

"If you weren't sitting back, letting me do all the work like you were some kind of… of king or something —"

"What?!"

Katara risked a glance over. Zuko was steaming — literally, and Sokka was using one of his arm wraps to tie both ends of his broken spear together, grumbling in a stage whisper. "Oh I know, you should have blasted the icebergs out of the way. But that would mean your firebending would be useful."

Zuko made a move towards Sokka, but not before Katara got between them first. "Do I have to separate you two?" she snapped, glaring at both of them. "If you haven't noticed, we're kind of in a situation here. Now is not the time for fighting."

"Maybe you should can just waterbend us back to land." Sokka's fingers danced in the air, sarcastically.

Behind her, Zuko snorted. "He's right, you know. You should have been able to move those icebergs."

And suddenly, Katara found herself pulled right along in with their argument. She rounded on Zuko, glaring up at him. "What about you? You could have blasted them apart."

"I was kind of busy trying to paddle us out!" he snapped.

Sokka held up a hand as if he were in class, cheerfully digging the knife deeper. "Not very well."

This was getting them nowhere. Katara stood back and made herself take a deep breath. The longer they argued, the further away from shore they were getting. "Sokka, please tell me you at least told Gran-Gran where we were heading…"

A look of dawning horror on his face was all the answer she needed. Zuko groaned and turned away in exasperation muttering. "Perfect, just perfect…"

"Well," Sokka rubbed the back of his neck, "when we don't make it back in a few hours, they're bound to come looking…"

"They won't even know where to start!" Zuko pointed to the shore, now a rapidly fading line on the horizon. "We can still see land. I say we just jump in and take our chances."

That was a very bad idea, and they all knew it. Even in the warmest time of the year, it was unsafe to be in the water for more than a few minutes at a time. Zuko might be able to do it, but there would be no rescue if he couldn't bend himself back to warmth again. No one said anything, and Zuko turned, crossing his arms and looking sullenly out to sea.

Katara shook her head. "There has to be another way," she said, "We're going to get out of this, together."

"How?"

All three of them looked at one another, each seeing the same sort of grimness on each other's faces. This was bad. There was nothing to eat on an iceberg, nothing to drink… they'd be dead within a few days, or the iceberg would melt out from underneath them first and they would drown. Even Sokka was out of sarcasm.

Suddenly Sokka blinked, eyes lighting. "Wait!" he said, standing up to go to Zuko's side. He, too, gazed out to the vast field of icebergs. It was a desolate sight — too many tips of white to be able to count, and as soon as they were completely out of sight of land they could get easily turned around, and not be able to find their way back. But Sokka's quick mind was making different sort of connections all together, and he turned to the others, excited.

"We can still make it to shore! These icebergs are almost close enough to leap across. Katara, you can freeze a stepping stone to get from to one and another. Iceberg bridge!" he concluded, with a wide smile.

Zuko's unburned eye widened. He glanced out, perhaps finding the same path through the icebergs as Sokka. "Yeah… I think that'll work." He must have seen the doubt on Katara's face, because he added. "It will just be like one of your ice walls, but sideways."

But Katara wasn't so sure of herself. It was easy for Zuko to say that, but it was just theory and as they found out countless times in the past, ideas on bending didn't necessarily work on application.

She had to try.

Carefully, making sure she didn't slip, she scooted herself to the edge of the ice. The nearest iceberg was about six feet away — just too far away for a safe leap. She waved her arms in a loop, willing the water to freeze. It jumped at her command in a wave instead, splashing up and soaking her seal-hide boots.

She glanced backwards at her brothers, biting her lip. Ever helpful, Sokka gave her the thumbs up. Zuko stood by his side, just waiting for something to happen, radiating a calm confidence. He believed in her. They both did. Looking at them, Katara reminded herself that their very lives depended on her. She was the only one with the abilities to do this. Zuko — and most certainly Sokka — couldn't.

She faced the water again, breathing in from her nose and out her mouth like she had practiced a thousand times before. Then she pushed her hands out, fingers splayed, willing the water in front of her to freeze.

It did. Just for a moment, at least, before the current cracked through the thin ice. But it was a start, and with a determined glint in her eye, Katara got to her feet. It took only a couple of quick gestures to lock her boots in ice to make sure she didn't slip off the edge. Then, fully centered, she swung her arms around, ending once again in that push outward.

The water between the icebergs stilled, and then froze. This time it stayed frozen, as thick and secure as the ice shelves on which they lived.

Sokka gave a whoop, and before Katara could stop him, he had scrambled down, across the short bridge and onto the next iceberg. "C'mon!" he called, "we're wasting all day sunlight, here!"

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Katara became more adept at her freezing technique, creating safe bridges for them to cross on nearly every first try. They made good time, using the icebergs as giant stepping-stones to cross them out of the current and slowly, back towards land.

"There should be a peninsula around here," Sokka called eagerly. He was cutting the way, pointing out the direction on every path. "I think we only have a little way to go, and once we hit land we can just hike back home…"

But of course, it wasn't that easy. They were following more or less a path through the field of icebergs, cutting across the smaller ones out of the current and into calmer waters. Off in the distance, and steadily drawing nearer, a problem lay ahead.

It looked almost as if a mountain had sprung up out of the water. In a lifetime of living near and on sea ice, none of the Water Tribe siblings had ever seen anything so massive. It seemed to stretch from one horizon to another, and so high that they could tilt their necks up and up, and still the top couldn't be seen.

Such a thing was easy to plan around, and Sokka did his very best. Yet the iceberg was so big it almost seemed to draw everything around it in its path. No matter which direction that they went, the field of ice seemed to curve back around, leading them once more to the giant.

It was almost eerie, although none of them spoke about it.

Finally, they stood not a hundred yards away from the giant iceberg, unsure what to do next.

"I am not making a bridge there," Katara grumbled, crossing her arms.

Meanwhile, Zuko had tilted his head, as if looking at the thing from another angle. "No use going around it," he said, "I guess we're just going to have to go through it."

Sokka raised his eyebrow. "How do you want to do that?"

"See that dark spot?" Zuko pointed with one mitten to a long imperfection on the face of the crag, centered in the middle. "It looks like a big crack. I think if we target it, we could have a shot at splitting it into a few pieces, at least."

"Hmm… violent, but effective." Sokka stroked his chin, and then nodded in approval.

Katara grinned; the first smile she’d had in awhile. "I just think you're looking to blow something up," she said, fondly reaching up to ruffle Zuko's dark hair.

He ducked away, scowling, but there wasn't any heat to it. He was used to her teasing, and when he straightened up again, his light gold eyes were bright. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, and they took a few steps back. Katara didn't want to say it out loud, because Sokka would have just made a comment, but it felt good to actually put one of their kata's to use. This had been one of the first moves she and Zuko had worked out — simple, but effective.

Katara bent some snow into a watery globe between her hands, and he conjured an identical ring of fire between his palms. Together they took a single step forward, miming an exaggerated underhanded toss.

Together, in a ribbon that twisted over and over, the two elements flew through the air and struck the targets, hitting perfectly in the middle of the deep imperfection.

There was a rush of steam and then a crack so loud that all three of them clapped their hands to their ears. For the space of two breaths, it seemed nothing had happened at all. Then, in slow motion, the entire face of the mammoth iceberg began to fall away. It started out small, like a tiny shift on an impossibly tall mountainside. Then it gained speed, crumbling away with rocks each as big as their family tent.

And the whole thing fell under with a grinding sound and a crash that would haunt Katara for weeks to come.

A huge wave rose in its wake, all froth and destruction. It rolled forward, and abruptly all three teens were confronted with exactly how short-sighted they had been, for they were directly in its path.

Katara held up her hands out of instinct, but it was like throwing a flat rock in the midst of a roiling ocean. There was no way she could shift that amount of water. She was just one girl — untrained and not even a real bender, no matter what had said before.

Looking up at that wave, which loomed high above — the tallest thing she thought she had ever seen, she doubted even the legendary Avatar could stop it.

Someone grabbed her, shoving her down. She had only a moment to gain an impression: Sokka landing beside her and Zuko on top of them both, thrusting fire-wreathed hands into the ice on either side of them to get a hold.

It would have been no use at all if the wave had crested over them. As it happened, it didn't. That destruction was waiting for the distant shore. Their iceberg rolled and pitched, nearly rising straight into the air, and if Zuko hadn't had such a good grip they would have all slid into the sea.

Then with a crash that rattled Katara's teeth in her skull, the iceberg righted itself and they were level again.

"Never mind," Sokka said, after they caught their breath checked to make sure they were all still alive. "I hate simple and violent. Next time, I don't care how long it takes; we go around."

Katara nodded in shaky agreement.

Zuko remained strangely silent. He sat up, staring at his own hands as if he didn't recognize them, and she immediately saw why: The tattered remains of his mittens clung black and charred to his wrists. His pale hands, though, were unblemished.

"Burned my mittens," he muttered, looking dazed.

Katara didn't blame him. She had never seen him do any firebending move like that before. And it was obvious that he didn't know he could, either. He had just reacted out of instinct — and although he never spoke of it, she knew how deeply it disturbed him when new things cropped up like this. It reminded them all of his shadowed, former life. Zuko never fully trusted himself with his bending because of it — it was the reason he usually let her take the lead with their katas.

She reached out towards him, but Sokka was there, first. His brand of compassion was something totally different than hers.

"Hey," Sokka said, grabbing Zuko's shoulder to get his attention, "Fire hands, huh? Cool."

Katara wanted to roll her eyes, but Sokka's glib words had the desired effect, and Zuko seemed to mentally give himself a shake, coming back the present. "I wouldn't really say it was 'cool'…" he said, with the tiniest hint of a smirk.

"Yeah, but if I ever call you hot, I'll have to drown myself."

Zuko gave a low chuckle, and his brother slapped him on the back and helped him and Katara to their feet.

Together, they gazed out on the destruction that they had wrought. As far as Katara could tell, the massive mountain of the iceberg had split into four or five ragged chunks. They were still big and intimidating, but at least she could see over them.

Looking out to the water, her eyes caught something bright — something that almost looked like a reflection of the sun, but wasn't. Whatever it was, it was below the surface… and it was getting larger.

"Hey, what's that?" She pointed, and almost as soon as the words left her mouth, something exploded up from the ocean depths.

The three siblings winced away, but this time there was no giant wave. Just a shower of water as what looked like a whole new iceberg popped to the surface in front of them.

Only this iceberg was… glowing?

Katara squinted, stepping forward to get a better look. Then her mind caught up with what her eyes were trying to tell her, and she jerked back again in surprise.

No doubt about it — there was a form, a human shaped form sitting in the middle of that iceberg. Strange arrows curved from the figure's arms down to his joined fists, and up over his forehead.

As she watched, frozen in disbelief, the arrows and what looked to be the eyes, glowed.

Whoever was in there… was alive!

She didn't remember making the decision. She hardly even felt control over her body. She just reacted. Snatching Sokka's bone club from his holster, she raced over and with a deft movement, froze the water between her iceberg and the glowing one.

Katara heard Sokka and Zuko yelling at her to come back, but she was already racing across the short bridge. Whoever was in there couldn't wait for help!

She came right to the face of the ice and swung the bone club as hard as she could. It bounced off, small pieces of ice chipping away in every direction. Gritting her teeth, Katara swung again. Dimly, she heard her brothers skid to a stop behind her.

Someone, probably Zuko, made a grab for the club, but he missed and this time when her swing hit, it made an impact.

A jagged crack ran lengthwise up the encasing of ice, which she now realized was a globe. Then it split open, like a penguin egg, and a rush of warm air spilled out along with a jet of blue light so intense that she was momentarily blinded.

Sokka yanked her back, and the three siblings huddled together, protecting each other – each equally horrified as a figure, now a silhouette against the bright light, crawled out over the top and stood, looking down on them.

Then, just as suddenly, the light cut out. The figure wavered in his stance and then with a low groan, pitched forward. He slid down the slope, coming to a rest nearly at their feet.

"Is he… dead?" Zuko wondered aloud, prodding the figure with his toe.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

**Next time: Who is that mysterious boy in the iceberg?**

(Ducks rotten fruit)

 


	8. (Book 2: Earth)  Men of The Water Tribe/ Crossroads of Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's gorgeous fanart drawn by Axentis! (Dayum, look at those luminous eyes!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

**Note**: Everyone is the same age as in canon. Aang is 12, Katara is 14, Sokka is 15 and Zuko is 16. BUT Zuko thinks of himself as younger than Sokka... if by only a few months.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

"Things will never return to normal...

… But the important thing is, the Avatar gives Zuko hope."

_\- Iroh, The Storm_

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

It took a few moments of furious blinking for Sokka to clear his light-dazzled eyes.

Slowly, the colorful dots in his vision faded away and the strange figure at his feet resolved itself.

It… was just a kid. He was eleven, maybe twelve, and shaved completely bald. The glowing arrows that had been so unearthly strange had now become light blue tattoos, each running down an arm and tipped at his forehead. He was dressed differently, too; strange, high pants and an overcoat of yellow and red.

Zuko prodded him again with the toe of his boot.

"Stop that!" Katara snapped and knelt down to lay her mitten across the strange boy's cheek. The boy stirred at her touch and blinked grey eyes up at her.

"Hey," she said, giving the kid a smile. Sokka nearly groaned aloud. He had seen that smile before; that time she adopted a seal-kitten, forgetting it would soon become too large to fit the tent. "Are you okay?"

The boy winced and blinked again. When he spoke, his voice was weak. "I need to ask you something."

Katara hesitated and bent her head to hear him. "What?"

Suddenly, the boy's grey eyes widened, and a mischievous smile crossed his face. "Do you want to go penguin sledding with me?"

"Uh." She was taken aback. "Sure…"

Sokka, at least, had recovered his wits and stepped forward. He retrieved his bone club and daringly prodded the boy with it. "Stand back, Katara. He could be dangerous."

But the boy just casually batted the club away, and too quickly for Sokka to react, leapt to his feet. "Where am I?" asked the boy, scratching the back of his head.

"South pole," Zuko answered. He had wisely kept his distance, and watched the scene with arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. "How are you not frozen?"

"I dunno." The boy gave a shrug. "Huh. I didn't know I made it. I was just flying with Appa — Oh! Appa!" He turned, and with three graceful leaps, he somehow scaled the enclosure of ice and jumped back inside.

The three Water siblings turned, shrugged at each other, and followed.

Personally, Sokka didn't think that he could be surprised by anything else today. He had seen a giant mountain of ice split into pieces, Zuko doing some freaky fire thing with his hands, and now a crazy tattooed kid rise up from an iceberg. But when he scaled the ice globe, and looked inside… Yeah, the giant white and brown furry monster with six legs and beaver tail surprised him.

Zuko made a choked sort of sound, and Sokka looked over to see he had dropped his 'tough guy' pose, and was trying to pick his jaw off the floor. Come to think of it, so was Sokka.

"What… is that thing?" Zuko sputtered.

"Appa," the boy chirped, climbing around the thing's head to pull at his eyelids. "He's my flying bison. C'mon buddy, wake up."

Sokka had a pretty good view from where he stood, and he didn't see any wings on the thing. "Right," he said, jerking a thumb at Katara. "And this is Katara, my flying sister."

The giant animal stirred, shaking himself to the kid's obvious delight. Then, without warning it sneezed, and had Sokka not been standing over by Zuko, he might have been hit by a big load of green (and possibly contagious) snot. As it was, the glob smacked against the ice wall right behind him, and the two boys nearly tripped over one another in their scramble to get out of the way.

"These are my brothers," Katara said, stepping forward to tentatively reach out and lay a hand on the giant muzzle. "The sarcastic one is Sokka, and Mr. Grumpy over there is Zuko."

The kid beamed. "Oh, hi. I'm—" A strange look came over his face, and before Sokka could put his club out to defend himself, he sneezed.

But he didn't _just_ sneeze. He flew at least twenty feet straight up in the air, as if — well, Sokka couldn't think of a proper analogy, but it was straight up IN THE AIR. Then he floated downward, overcoat billowing around him, as if it were nothing. "I'm Aang."

"You're an airbender," Katara breathed.

Personally, Sokka would have settled for 'freak', but airbender worked too.

"Yup!" Aang confirmed, with a smile.

"No… you can't be an airbender." Zuko stepped forward, holding out his hands as if pleading for sanity. Sokka knew the feeling. "I mean, no one has seen an airbender for a hundred years."

"What do you mean?" Aang asked.

But Sokka knew where his brother was going. He strode forward importantly, jabbing a finger into the kid's chest. "What he means, buster, is that clearly you're a spy." He could almost feel Katara's silent objection. Poor, naive Katara. He'd set her straight. "That bolt of light was probably a signal to the Fire Navy."

"Why would I want to signal the Fire Navy?" Aang asked. "I don't know anyone in the Fire Navy. Oh, hey," he turned to Zuko, "Do you know Kuzon?"

"Uh, no?" Zuko looked completely taken aback, which Sokka had to admit, was a difficult reaction to draw from his brother. And he'd tried.

"Sokka, look at his face," Katara said, "Is that the face of an evil Fire Nation spy?"

He had to admit the kid looked fairly innocent. And, if Sokka really thought about it, it was a little bit of a stretch to think that an airbender would be working for the Fire Nation. But still…

Sokka had enough.

"You know what? Giant light beams, flying bison, guys named Kuzon… airbenders. I think I've got midnight sun madness. I'm going home where things make sense," he declared, but he had no sooner turned around and looked out to the desolate sea that he remembered, oh whoops, they were all kinda, sorta, stranded.

"Yeah, you let us know how that goes," Zuko snorted, which earned him a glare from Sokka. After all, he was supposed to be on his side.

Of course, the weird flying kid had the answer. "Well, if you guys are stuck, Appa and I can give you a lift." Then he promptly floated to the top of the giant flying bison, extending a hand as if all were welcome.

Katara said, "We'd love a ride! Thanks!" and she climbed up before Sokka could grab her to shake some sense into her.

"Oh no, we are not getting on that fluffy snot monster." Sokka had only the faintest idea about how whiny and petulant he sounded at that point. But really, could anyone blame him? Was it too much to ask for this world to start making sense again?

Apparently it was, because Zuko gave a sort of a shrug and pulled himself on board, calling over his shoulder. "Better than freezing to death out on the ice."

"But… but he could eat us!"

All three were looking at him from the bison's back, and finally Sokka gave a defeated sigh, walking up to the beast. However, he refused to let go of his spear, and his sister and brother had to help pull him up.

Aang sat at the thing's head, gripping a pair of leather straps attached to the curved horns like reins. "Okay, first time flyers, hold on tight!" Then he flicked his hands. "Appa, yip-yip!"

The creature stirred, its muscles rolling under the thick pelt of fur. It slapped its wide beaver tail against the ice, and with a massive jerk and a rush of wind, it leapt out into the sky…

… only to fall down again with a sickening lurch and a splash that _once again_ got Sokka all wet.

The fates hated him. They really did. For the second time today, he was forced to wring out the bottom of his parka.

"I knew he couldn't fly," he muttered.

Zuko grunted, arms folded. His attention was elsewhere, for Aang had turned back around and was staring at their little sister with a dreamy expression on his face.

"Hey kid," Zuko snapped, "eyes in front."

Sokka had to admit, his little brother could really pull the intimidating firebender thing off sometimes. Aang gulped and quickly turned back around.

Slyly, on the down-low, Sokka and Zuko gave each other high-fives.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Even though the sun had not fully set, it was well past what anyone could consider bedtime.

Katara and Sokka were dozing, curled up in the middle of the thick-padded bison-saddle. Zuko inched himself upright, bracing his back against the wooden wall, and watched the bison's slow swim with his arms still crossed over his chest. He had no chance of sleep at all; the sun still sat low in the sky and shone fully upon the scarred side of his face.

Katara stirred, turning her head, and caught his eye. "Still awake?"

"Can't sleep," he grunted, and then cast a dubious glance at the stranger sitting at the bison's head. The kid was sitting cross-legged, but leaning forward as if exhausted. Zuko wouldn't be surprised if he was. The fact that he was even alive had to be some kind of miracle.

His sister followed his gaze, and the look in her eyes was something he didn't want to see; soft, compassionate, and hopeful all at once. "He's an airbender," Katara breathed, as if releasing a long-awaited sigh.

"So he says."

"Do you think…" Katara paused, sitting up and biting her bottom lip. She glanced about for Sokka, but he was snoring peacefully, completely oblivious to their conversation. "Do you think Aang knows what happened to the Avatar?"

Something strange jerked in Zuko's chest, like a tug at his innards that sent a cold sort of shiver down his spine. He couldn't place the feeling, and in a moment, it was gone.

He shook his head, but only to clear his thoughts. It was best that Sokka was asleep, because he would have just jumped in proclaiming the Avatar as just a made up legend. Katara always believed the stories, and although Zuko could never quite pinpoint why, he did too. "I don't know," he said, at last. "I could ask him."

"Ask him _nicely_." Katara had no idea how much she sounded like Gran-Gran. But before Zuko could tell her, she reached out and gripped his hand. "He's an airbender," she repeated, eyes locked with his, "Maybe he could teach us—"

"What? Airbending?"

"I don't know. Something. Anything."

He caught the hope in her voice, and another tingle went up and down his spine; one of excitement. He broke his gaze with Katara to look back at the kid, this time appraisingly. Air was probably different from Water and Fire all together, but he and Katara had learned from each other, right? It wasn't so far-fetched.

"Maybe," Zuko allowed, but couldn't hide the thread of excitement in his voice. He dropped her hand. "I'll ask about the Avatar, and you ask him to teach us after he rests. Get some sleep."

He would leave it up to Katara to convince the kid to teach them more bending. After all, she had worked her magic on him years ago, despite his fear and doubt.

Getting up, he carefully picked his way past the saddle, over the giant bison's back. It was an odd sensation; quite unlike padding across a fur-rug. The muscles under his feet bunched and unbunched as the animal swam, and a couple of times he had to kneel down and grip the fur to keep from losing his balance. There was a sharp dip between the body and the head.

After a hesitation, Zuko leapt over the short neck, catching one of the black tipped horns in his hand to steady himself.

Aang startled, jerking out of what must have been a light doze. At once, he relaxed and offered him a chipper grin. "Hey, Zuko," he said, as if he had known him all of his life. Then he scooted over and patted the space next to him, allowing the taller boy to take his seat.

Zuko had to admit, there was a strange sense of power from sitting on the bison's head. From this vantage point, it seemed as if an entire watery world was laid out before him; his to command. It was an interesting feeling, and not unwelcome.

But he pushed it away for the time being, and focused on the kid next to him. "Hey… Aang." He tried — and failed — to copy that same sort of familiarity in his voice. Quickly, he went on. "Look, I was sort of wondering… since you're an airbender, do you ever know what happened to the Avatar?"

"The Avatar?" Aang squeaked, raising his hand up to the back of his smooth head. "Uh… No, I didn't know him. I mean, I_ knew_ people that knew him, but… I didn't. Sorry."

"Oh." He really didn't expect the kid to know anything, but all the same he felt a pang of disappointment.

An awkward sort of silence stretched between the two. Aang, for some reason seemed twitchy, and Zuko was at a loss of what to say next. Sokka would know. He had a way with words that Zuko knew he could never have. So, out of slight desperation — and because the question had bugged him at the time — he asked, "So, who's Kuzon?"

Aang gave small chuckle at this. "Oh, he's one of my best friends. He's Fire Nation, too."

It felt as if Zuko had been simultaneously slapped and doused with a cold bucket of water. He straitened, narrow-eyed at the boy. "I'm not Fire Nation," he growled, and stood up. "Goodnight." With that, he jumped across the small gap between Appa's head and back to rejoin the others.

Behind him, Aang looked surprised. After a moment, he bent down, hand coming to rest by one of Appa's ears. "Was it something I said?"

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

The 'flying' bison continued on his leisurely, yet steady swim, and by three in the morning they found shore. Everyone, sans Zuko, was sleeping. He quietly woke Katara and Sokka, and told them to get to their tent. After a moment of hesitation, he did the same for Aang; walking the extremely drowsy boy to one of the unused tents.

The airbender was so sleepy that Zuko doubted he barely understood what was going on, and when Zuko came back with some extra pelts for bedding, he found Aang curled up and asleep on the floor of the tent; perfectly comfortable without blankets.

No one in the camp was up, and the sun was still at the horizon, ever present during the summer months. It was just as nearly bright as full day, with only a pallid sort of grey to mark the time.

Zuko's body screamed for sleep, although he knew he could lay down for hours and not get any of it.

Returning to the home tent, he quietly poured himself some of the special tea that Gran-Gran made for him during the summer. It was the only way he could get more than an hour’s worth of sleep during midnight-sun. He bent the liquid to warmth with a short breath, and wincing, downed the entire bitter cup.

Then he crawled in between the furs, ignoring Sokka's wide-mouthed snoring, and waited for it to kick in.

His dreams were troubled, full of dark mist and faceless beings who reached towards him with spindly fingers like claws. Screaming gibberish right in his face… Something about the Avatar…

Zuko awoke, a good seven hours later, alone in the tent, with the energy of the sun singing harshly in his veins.

Rubbing his eyes, he dressed quickly. He could hear all sorts of sounds just outside the fabric, but which were muffled and distorted beyond understanding. Dressing quickly, and shaking his head to rid himself of the last of his night-terrors, he pushed past the tent flap and walked out.

"Great!" Sokka was saying, sounding anything but happy. He stood facing Aang and Katara, outnumbered. "You're an airbender, Katara's a waterbender, and Zuko's a firebender, and together you can just waste time all day long!"

He was, then, completely surprised and gave a most undignified yelp when Zuko came up from behind and thumped him upside the head.

Unnoticing, Aang turned to Katara. "You're a waterbender!"

"Well," she bit her lip, suddenly shy in a way that Zuko had never seen from her before. "Sort of—"

"Yes, she is," Zuko snapped, cutting her off. "She's a good one." He didn't understand. She was the better bender out of both of them, the one who usually was able to pick up their ideas with ease… and wasn't she always saying how they _were_ real benders, despite the lack of training?

But now Katara wouldn't quite look at him, and he didn't know why.

"And… you're a firebender?" Now Aang's grey eyes turned on him again.

Zuko met his gaze with a glower. "Yes, I am."

"Yeah, you can tell by his _flame_-boyant personality." Sokka was sure to stay just out of arm's reach.

Luckily, they were saved by Gran-Gran who had come up to see why the kids were gathered around, apparently not working. "All right, come on, enough playing. There are chores that need to be done around here."

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

Since Zuko and Sokka were the only men of the village, it fell to them to train up the new generation of warriors in their father's absence. This, Zuko had to admit, was Sokka's expertise. He liked to talk and make important speeches about being a warrior. And although he would never admit it, Zuko was sure it was his way of dealing with missing Dad. Where Zuko became introverted and moody, Sokka would puff himself up and overcompensate by treating toddlers like new recruits.

"One day, they won't be kids anymore," Sokka told him, some time ago when the training first started. "And I'll be leading them as Chief." He had paused, and added, "You can help, of course."

"…Thanks."

But Sokka was right, of course. They wouldn't be kids forever, and Zuko knew that war didn't stop for anyone. They all had to be ready for the day it would inevitably reach their shores.

He still felt a little groggy from the sleeping tea, so today he sat along the sidelines, watching Sokka parade in front of a group of six of the oldest boys (some, barely out of diapers), gesturing wildly with his boomerang and talking of wild fights and evil firebenders.

For his part, Zuko used his time to sharpen a large whale-tooth for what he hoped would be his new spear-point. He had lost his best one in that ridiculous canoe accident yesterday, and he didn't want to be without for very long. As he ran his sharpening stone again and again over the ivory, he listened with half an ear to his older brother.

"Now, men," Sokka said importantly. "Never show any fear when facing the Fire Nation. In the Water Tribe, we fight to the last man standing…" He went on, and Zuko found his mind wandering elsewhere.

The main village seemed quiet. At least, quieter than usual. It wasn't exactly a bustling hive of activity even on the best of days, after the men had gone to war. Zuko cast a glance around, did a swift headcount and came up short Katara and one tattooed airbender.

Auya was walking by, her arms laden with driftwood for the fire. He called out to her, "Hey, do you know where Katara and Aang went?"

The woman paused. She and Zuko had never learned to like each other after she more or less rejected him as a child, but the bonds between the people of the Water Tribe were not something taken in jest. They retained a more or less civil attitude; a cap of paper-thin ice overlaying a sea of intense dislike. "She and the boy went off towards the hills about an hour back," Auya said, curtly. "Said something about penguin sledding."

He nodded and sat down again to sharpen his spear, muttering under his breath, "Penguin sledding better not be a metaphor…"

"What's a metaphor?" Little Denahi asked, at his side.

Zuko groaned and flopped back in the cool snow.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

After more lecturing from Sokka (and about three requested potty breaks from the boys — Zuko seriously considered limiting what they ate and drank for breakfast in the morning) the group was ready for an example of a good way to fight Fire Nation invaders.

Zuko stood up with a leisurely sort of air, aware that the children’s eyes were on him. He took his time, dusting off bits of snow from his parka and building up the suspense. Only when the boys started to fidget in anticipation did he twist around, reaching towards the flames of the nearest campfire. The fire jumped to his command. With his feet planted, he streamed the flames through the air, and then sent them, like a bright ribbon of fire, over to Sokka.

His brother was ready, and quickly stepped to the side as they had practiced, letting the flow of fire fly past him and land with a hiss in a nearby snow bank.

"There, you see that, warriors?" Sokka said, over the ohh's and aww's of the little boys. "Fire travels in more or less a straight line. Once it has left the control of the bender, you can avoid it. More importantly, while they are doing their weird little arm wavy thing—"

"It's called a kata," Zuko reminded him.

"…Whatever. While they're doing that, it's the perfect time to strike. My method? I prefer the boomerang." Sokka held up his own with just more than a little reverence.

But the boys weren't listening to Sokka any longer. Something else had caught their attention.

"Zuko, can you do that, next?" Tuktu asked, and pointed up to the sky.

At first Zuko thought it was the sun, but that was impossible because he could feel the actual sun shining brightly on his back. The bright orange glow against the blue sky had to be unnatural. All turned to watch it rise rapidly from the horizon; a trail of smoke in its wake.

All activity in the village paused as the phenomenon was sighted by more and more people. Then, just as the light reached its zenith, it exploded in a shower of loud and bright red fireworks.

"It's a flare." Sokka had come over to his side, and Zuko looked at him in surprise, seeing his brother's fists clenched. "That's coming from the direction of the old Fire Navy ship! Where are Katara and Aang?"

Zuko's stomach felt like it dropped out from his stomach. "Out. Auya said they went penguin sledding."

Although Sokka didn't know it, the dark look that crossed his features was so fierce that Zuko had to restrain himself from stepping back. He had seen Sokka angry, but always before there had been an undercurrent of goofiness that mellowed it out. Now, the humor was gone. "Aang’s trying to signal the Fire Navy with that flare! He's bringing them straight to us."

It wasn't often that Zuko found himself the voice of reason, but it was hard to reconcile in his head the overly-friendly kid with what he knew of the Fire Nation. "Hold on, Sokka, I don't think…"

But Sokka wasn't looking at him now. He was glaring out beyond the village. And following his gaze, Zuko felt a hot coal of anger settle within his heart.

Past the ice road and towards the abandoned Fire Navy ship came two figures set against the misty sunlight; Katara and Aang.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

By the time the two had trudged up the icy path towards the village, they were greeted by the full village: a wall of disapproving glares and crossed arms. Even the little children, mostly oblivious to the political turmoil in a small village, hung back behind their parents, confused.

Sokka had been seething the entire time, and he was the first to break rank and step forward, pointing angrily at Aang. "I knew it! You signaled the Fire Navy with that flare! You're trying to lead them straight to us, aren't you?"

"He didn't do anything," Katara shot back, wholly unrepentant. "It was an accident!"

Aang looked at them with wide eyes. "Yeah, we were just on the ship and there was a booby-trap and—"

But Sokka cut him off. "Oh, that's a likely story. Katara, get away from him!"

"And you," Zuko snarled, stepping forward toward Aang with anger in every line of his body. "What were you thinking?! You put us all in danger!"

Sokka was trying to lead Katara away, but at Zuko's words she shrugged off his touch and went over to stand between Aang and the angry firebender. "Zuko, you're making a mistake. Aang is not our enemy!"

Sokka joined up against Zuko's side, and the four teenagers squared off against each other.

"We're keeping our promise to Dad," Sokka snapped. "We're protecting you from threats like him."

"Yeah," Zuko added, glaring at Aang. "Get lost."

Katara glared at him, and behind her the snow trembled ever so slightly. When she spoke, her voice was low, and dangerous. "I can't believe that you of all people would turn someone out, just because they're different. This tribe took _you_ in."

Sokka stepped in front of Zuko, intending to forestall the impending fight. There was no point; Zuko was rooted to the ground in shock. He and his siblings had been in plenty of arguments before, and the words might have been harsh, but they were never meant to truly hurt…. Now he felt pierced right through the heart.

Gran-Gran, perhaps sensing the sudden impasse, stepped in. "Katara, you knew that going on that ship was forbidden. Your brothers are right. The airbender must leave."

"Then I'm banished, too!" With that, Katara swung around, gripped Aang by the shoulder and practically marched him away.

"Hey!" Sokka looked at Zuko, who only shrugged. Sokka ran a few steps after them. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To find a waterbender master!" Katara yelled over her shoulder. "Aang is taking me to the North Pole!"

"I am?" The airbender wondered. Then, "Great!"

"Fine!" Zuko snapped to Katara's retreating back. He was so angry and hurt that he felt he couldn't even breathe properly. Behind him at the campsite, every fire flared up in bright orange colors. He marched over, past Sokka who hurried to catch him, to Katara. "Go learn waterbending properly, if that's all you want! Never mind about your family, or your tribe. I guess we're not important enough for you anymore!"

Katara hesitated, and for the first time he saw indecision in her step. "That's not it, Zuko. _This_ is important to me." She paused again, looking up at the broad back of the great bison. "You could come, too. I'm sure we could find a firebending master on the way."

He hated that part of himself that was tempted, if ever so slightly, by her offer. He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to hurt her just as much as she was hurting him. But it felt like the words, all of the anger and disappointment, had collected somewhere around his neck scar. He shook his head; a sharp, angry gesture, and turned away.

"Katara, I don't want to get between you and your family," Aang offered, tentatively.

"You're not," she lied.

Sokka moved forward, hands out, pleading. "You're really choosing him over us?"

She hesitated one last time before reaching out and gripping Sokka in a tight hug. "I'll be back. As soon as I've learned— I'll be back… I promise." Then before Sokka could say anything, she stepped away and went to her other brother.

But Zuko glowered at an invisible point in the snow, and refused to look at her. She held up her hand as if to touch him, but drew back at the last moment and reached up to Aang, who was sitting on Appa's head. In a moment she was up, and with a snap of the reins, the great beast turned and plodded slowly away.

Zuko turned only once to watch them leave. And back in the village, every campfire went dead.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

"Hey," Sokka grabbed Zuko’s arm hard to get his attention. His blue eyes were bright with withheld emotion. "You know she's didn't mean any of that. She's just… angry. She'll be back, when she calms down."

They were walking back to the village. Everyone was still gathered, open curiosity and horror on their faces. Seeing all the woman looking to them for an explanation, Zuko took in a deep, shuddering breath and willed himself to feel the wisdom in Sokka words. He was probably right. Katara wouldn't get ten miles away before she got homesick and came back.

He nodded, once, and Sokka straightened himself up, almost unconsciously, before plastering an easy smile on his face for the sake of the rest of the village. "She'll be back," he said again, this time louder for everyone's benefit. "She's just seeing Aang off."

Zuko took his brother's cue and did the best to relax his shoulders and uncurl his fists. He couldn't manage a smile — not yet, but when the little kids swarmed around his legs, asking where Katara went, he was able to answer easily that she was just leading the airbender out past the boundaries. She'd be back… soon.

In the meantime, Sokka had other things to occupy the minds of his warriors in training. "All right men!" he said, and at once all the little boys snapped to attention. "Ready our defenses! The Fire Nation could be on our shores any minute now. I want each and every one of you on the ice wall, looking for any sign of them!"

Denahi raised his hand, "But I gotta—"

"And no potty breaks!"

Zuko crossed his arms over his chest, smirking, as all the boys fell into action. "It's about time you thought of a good use for them," he said in a low aside.

Sokka preened. "Yup, and they'll be able to tell us as soon as Katara comes back. And if any of them start sleeping on watch, you can just scare them with a fire blast."

Gran-Gran listened to their conversation, her face lined with worry. "Sokka, you don't expect these children to actually fight if the Fire Nation do invade?"

He waved away her worry with an errant flip of his hand. "Nah, Gran-Gran. The chances of a Fire Navy ship actually being down close enough to see that flare are — well, they have to be really low. Like rock bottom, or next to none." He met Zuko's eyes. "We're going to be fine."

No sooner than he said that then a small, high shout pierced the wind. "Sokka! Zuko! I see them!"

"Katara?" Zuko called back in relief.

"No!" The boy pointed his mittened hand back towards the sea. "The Fire Nation!"

The brothers exchanged a glance that was equal parts shock and dawning horror. Without a word they turned, scrambling to the watch tower. They had built it last summer, over the remains of Zuko and Katara's old fort. It was the tallest structure in the village and apt to lean dangerously in one direction or another unless Katara fortified it regularly with new ice.

The steps were mushy with summer melt and a couple of times Zuko nearly slipped off, but within moments he and Sokka were at the top and looking out towards sea. The sun was setting — or at least as close to setting as it ever got, and they had to shield their eyes from the bright reflection of the water. But there, just beyond the far field of icebergs, was a grey metal point along the horizon.

"Maybe they won't spot the village," Zuko breathed. "They are pretty far out there."

But as the boys watched, the metal bow turned ever so slightly, becoming smaller as it lined up directly to their village. A lazy line of smoke drifted above it as the engines kicked into high gear. There was no doubt about it… the Fire Nation ship was headed to their shore.

Sokka cursed.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

The giant bison plodded slowly onward though the dense snowdrifts. Every step of its six-legged foot broke through a thick casing of ice and permafrost as if it was eggshells. The path Appa left would have been pathetically easy to find, if not for the wide-beaver tail which dragged easily upon the ground, smoothing out the snow and leaving behind no trace at all.

Aang and Katara sat at Appa's head, not talking, letting the distance between themselves and the village increase in mutual, miserable silence.

Finally, they came to a low rise of a hill. And beyond that lay a landscape of snowy rock-columns. The winds were fierce in this part of the country, and it had stripped and scoured ancient strewn boulders into strange twisted objects which sat, glittering, under a layer of crystal ice and snow.

Feeling the bare wind on his face, Aang took in a deep breath and then tugged on the reins which had sat loosely in his hands. Appa groaned and then halted.

"This isn't right, Katara." Aang's young, high voice was gentle, but firm. "The monks who raised me used to say that to put the world in order, you have to put your family in order, and to do that you have to put your heart in order."

Katara had been crying, silently, and at her friend's words she raised a hand up to brush away an errant tear. "I know," she said at last, and together they sat in silence and watched the tendrils of fog being blown here and there through the ice columns. Finally, she continued. "All of my life, I've wanted to be a waterbender. When Zuko came, I thought we could learn together… and we did. But we don't know what we're doing half the time."

Aang looked thoughtful. "My best friend, Kuzon, was a firebender. Oh, he could do the _craziest_ things with fire! One time we—" He broke off, perhaps realizing that this was not the time or the place for that particular story. "Anyway, I never thought about learning anything from him, because Fire and Air are different elements. I can't imagine how hard it would be to work Fire and Water, because they're opposites. You two must be really great benders to be able to do that."

"Really?" A slight smile tugged at her lips, and she was looking at him as if trying to judge whether he was just being nice. "You think so?"

"Yup!" And with a tug on Appa's reins, he directed the great bison around. "Maybe once everyone calms down, I can come back for a visit… I'd really like to see what you can do."

She looked down, shyly. "I'd like that."

He grinned, and within a few moments the bison had made his slow way around and they were plodding back towards the way they came. From this direction, they could see far up the coast, and out to the far flung ice-fields.

"So what will you do, next?" Katara wondered.

"I guess I'll visit the Southern Air Temple. Wow…." Aang blinked, and then grinned again as a particular thought struck him. "I haven't cleaned my room for over a hundred years. Not looking forward to that." He was going to add more, maybe tell her about the time he and Monk Gyatso played the best prank on some of the elders. Something, anything to get her to smile, because Aang really liked it when Katara smiled.

But then he caught a glint of silver out over the sea, just above the far horizon. He blinked again, and rubbed his eyes, but the dark smudge of silver was still out there when his vision cleared. "There's something out there!" he exclaimed, and before Katara could react he dropped the reins and leapt high into the air to get a better look, letting a rush of wind float him back down again. There was no doubt about it; the ship was exactly like the one he and Katara had explored earlier.

She too, had seen the silver glint, and she stood up, her eyes wide. "It's heading towards the village!"

And there was no doubt in Aang’s mind, about who the Fire Nation was coming for.

"This is all my fault…" He gripped his airstaff, but at that moment he knew he would never be able to fly high enough or fast enough. The dark, heavy burden of responsibility pulled him down like a ton of literal bricks.

To fly, one had to detach himself from the world — but how was he supposed to do that when it was his job to save the world?

"No…." Katara let out a low groan under her breath. The ship was advancing at a fast pace. Only a few moments ago it had just been a streak of silver. Now they could see its clear outline.

Then Aang had an idea. "Wait! Do you still have any fish left?"

She fished around in her pocket and brought out one single frozen minnow. Aang grinned in renewed delight. "A penguin would be able to get me there no problem! Stay with Appa." Before she could react he snatched the fish from her hands, and with one great bound he cleared the bison and landed some twenty feet away.

"Aang!" she yelped, "No! Wait!"

It was too late. Another three giant leaps and he was over the next rise of the hill.

Katara sat back down. But her shock lasted only for a moment, before indignation kicked in. No. No way was she going to just sit by and be safe while a Fire Nation ship steamed towards her village…

… Oh Spirits, her brothers… her stupid, lovable brothers would be the only thing to protect the village.

Taking the reins into her hands, she snapped them with all the authority she could muster. "C'mon, Appa. We need to hurry! Please!"

The bison let out a low groan, but picked up his shuffling pace.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Sokka and Zuko went through their battle preparations in near silence — trading parka's for thick close fitting wraps dyed in Water Tribe blue. A warrior's greatest weapon was his brave heart, but actual weapons didn't hurt, either. Their boomerangs were holstered, and whale bone machetes were secured to their backs with a strap of leather. Finally, their ivory spears were checked for imperfection — Zuko missed his best spear, and promised himself that if they survived this he wouldn't be as foolish as to bring something like that fishing ever again.

Lastly came the war paint. Made of melted seal blubber mixed with finely ground coal and flour, it was applied thick and heavy to the face and neck. Zuko pulled his hair back into an unshaven wolf's tail, and when he took a glance at himself in a small looking glass, the face of a Water Tribe warrior scowled back at him. Behind the black and white paint, he saw himself for the first time without any scars — his left eye being more narrowed than his right the only indication.

"Ready?" Sokka asked.

Zuko put down the mirror and nodded. "Ready."

His brother reached forward and gripped his arm by the elbow, and Zuko did the same — one man to another. There weren't any words between them. There didn't need to be.

There was every chance one or both of them wouldn't make it back.

"Let's go knock some Fire Nation heads," Sokka said, and with those words they walked outside.

The village was in pandemonium — women scurrying back and forth, children crying, tent flaps being hastily closed up, polar-dogs howling from the scent of fear… and on the backdrop of it all, the Fire Navy ship drew steadily closer.

There was a gap in the parameter ice-wall, and between those two points Sokka and Zuko waited; ready to make their stand.

Thick black smoke seemed to pour from the steel column of the ship, as if it had caught the panic of the village and was hurrying for the kill. And now they could see small figures scurrying back and forth across the deck — there were so many, and only two warriors to fight them.

They expected the ship to stop on shore, and they would meet their enemy disembarking. It was quite the surprise when the ship did not even slow, but plowed headlong into the icy ridge that separated sea from land.

Zuko's heart leapt — just for a moment. But this was not a wooden Water Tribe ship. And with a crashing, squealing, and a grinding sound of metal plates against the tortured snapping of ice, the Fire Nation ship advanced.

Sokka and Zuko exchanged mutual looks of surprise, and although they backed a step or two in surprise, they held their ground.

The ship plowed towards them, banks of snow shoved forcefully to each side… and bit by bit it slowed as the weight of the snow collected against the metal hull.

The sheer weight of the ship warped the ice around it, and with a muffled sound of defeat, the unsteady watchtower fell inward on itself.

Sokka gave a low groan.

But it seemed like they were to be the next to be plowed over. It took every fiber of Zuko's resolve to hold steady. His panicked heart beat against his chest, and he tried to quell it down. He would not turn. He would not run.

Finally, finally the ship halted; a mere ten feet from where the boy warriors stood.

Zuko realized he was no longer scared — he was too angry to be scared. What right did these people have to come into his village, break down his brother's watchtower, and terrify all of the women and children? The fire inside bloomed up with savage force, and his fingers nearly smoked against the wooden shaft of the spear. He sent one more glance to Sokka and saw the steel resolve in his brother's eyes: Let them come. They were ready.

A hollow clang of a metal release was heard inside, and Zuko didn't know how he knew what would happen next, but he did.

He cried, "Watch out!" and pushed Sokka back. It was not a moment too soon, because the entire bowsprit of the ship fell forward, crashing down where they had stood, revealing a ramp — and the enemy.

The last time Zuko had set eyes on a Fire Nation man was when they had boarded Hakoda's ship; the night Nunka was killed. The six intervening years had dulled the memory, but now looking at the faceless white masks, the rust red armor, every detail of that night came back full force.

There were five soldiers, arranged in a flanking position — two in front and three in back. And in front of them, seeming oddly short and pot-bellied, was a grey-haired man wearing what Zuko recognized as a General's sash — order of the Dragon.

Sokka let out a warrior's yell and charged, aiming for the old fat one, marking him for their leader. The armored soldier to the right stepped forward, meeting Sokka's spear not with any weapon, but with his bare hands. He grabbed the spear, using Sokka's momentum against him, and broke it into two halves. Then he dealt Sokka a kick that sent him flying off the rampart, and back into the snow.

Zuko was right behind him, and seeing Sokka's mistake, stopped short and swiped instead at the soldier in front with the tip of his ivory point spear. The man let out a cruel chuckle, and moved faster than Zuko had ever expected. He stepped past Zuko's defense, and grabbed the spear from his hands, shoving him away. He fell backwards against the snow.

The two siblings had been dispatched in a matter of seconds, and with the threat gone the Fire Nation soldiers continued their path down to the village.

But then there was another roar from Sokka. He seemed to explode out of the snow, taking one of the men down in a tackle. It was ungraceful, sloppy, and Sokka was about half of the soldier's weight… but it did have the element of surprise.

One of the soldier’s cursed and stepped forward to help his comrade, raw flame erupting from his fingers.

Zuko only had a second to react. He charged forward, sliding in between his brother and the Fire Nation soldier a moment before the fireball hit.

He held up his hands, and with one sweep of his arms, diverted the blast to the side so that it landed harmlessly with a hiss in the nearby snow.

A cry went up from one of the armored soldier’s, "He's a firebender!"

Zuko got to his feet, centering himself in a graceful stance. Sokka had leapt up too, and threw his boomerang, aiming it once more for the leader in the middle who was watching the scene with perfect calm.

The General barely needed to move. One hand jabbed, as quick as a bolt of lightning, and the boomerang was engulfed in flames and fell scarcely before it had begun to fly

The General punched out, and a lance of flame shot towards the brothers. Zuko took a deep breath, throwing up his arms to create a wall of fire that canceled it out before it could hit them. But he had never fought fire before, and he couldn't have counted on the sheer force of the impact. He was unburned, but blown backward, crashing into Sokka, and knocking them both once more into the snow.

He groaned, and rolled away only to feel the cold steal of a broadsword touching his neck — right where the scar was hidden under his black and white warrior's paint.

Another soldier held Sokka in much the same way, and both boys froze, helpless as the remaining Fire Nation men walked to the village.

Hearing the fighting, the women had come out from their huts. Some were clutching their children tightly. All of them were staring, wide-eyed at their invaders.

There was a beat of silence, and then the aged General spoke. His voice crackled, almost in the same way Zuko's crackled — and in some ways it was genial— but there was also hint of steel under it that brooked no rebuke. Under this man's calm manner was a seasoned warrior. He was dangerous.

"I am in search of the Avatar," the General said, folding his hands into the large sleeves of his russet robes. He paused for a moment, letting this sink in. "Perhaps, you have seen him?"

The women said nothing. They were terrified, perhaps stunned, by the duel realities of their most horrible nightmare crashing into their peaceful village, and the kindly looking old man in front of them.

"I see," said the General, when it became apparent that no one was going to talk. "I know that you are hiding him, and I do not wish for this to come to violence." He unfolded his arms, holding out the palm of his hand. A spark of fire lit within and despite the fact that they had seen Zuko do the same thing a hundred times before, the women drew back, fearful. The threat was very clear.

Suddenly, one of the soldier's gave a cry of surprise as a blur of something orange and yellow swept under his knees. He fell down, and none other than Aang slid before them, riding on top of a penguin. The children gave a cheer, and the little airbender gracefully leapt off the penguin before turning to face the General. "Looking for me?"

The old man's calm demeanor changed in an instant, looking shocked, before his lips pressed into a thin, grim line. "You are the airbender. You are the Avatar." It wasn't a question.

"Aang?" Zuko whispered.

"No way…" Sokka answered. The two shared another glance. This one of hope. Aang was the Avatar! Their village was saved.

… and where was Katara?

Aang held out his palms, maneuvering himself between the enemy firebender and the rest of the village people. But the aged man had simply tucked his arms in his robes again. "If you wish to save these people," he said, "you will come with me."

Aang hesitated, and cast a glance behind him to the terrified women and children. "Do you promise?"

The General nodded his head stiffly and then turned, his eyes flickering to Sokka and Zuko. "I will take the firebender, as well."

"NO!" Sokka made to get up, but was forced back again by the point of the soldier's blade.

Zuko lay stunned for a moment, but he saw the helpless women and children… he saw Gran-Gran's tear filled eyes, and he knew that Aang was making a sacrifice to save these people. If the kid could do it, he would as well.

He nodded, and the sword was drawn away from his neck. As rose to his feet, he had a sudden flash to one of Dad's old stories; the one about how the Chief's son put himself out as bait for the giant elephant-wasp in order to save the rest of the Tribe. Remembering this, Zuko stood to his full height, shoulder's back and proud.

"I'll go," he said and his voice was strong and clear. "I'm not afraid of you, old man."

"Show your Prince some respect, whelp!" One of the soldiers struck Zuko between the shoulders for his insolence, driving him down to his knees. His arms were pulled behind his back and bound. But he caught a flash of something — perhaps amusement in the General's eyes.

Aang's hands were also bound, and together the two of them were walked up the ramp and to the ship.

They turned, and Zuko took one last look at his home… the people who were his family… Sokka's snarl of helpless rage… before the ramp closed completely and he and Aang were plunged into darkness.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Sokka angrily rubbed some cool snow over his face, riding it of the last of the paint. The point of his boomerang stuck out of the snow nearby, blackened with soot but otherwise unharmed. He grabbed it, wiping it clean with fur-lined hem of his parka, and holstered it. Then he took a deep breath and turned to the ruins of his village.

_We'll have to relocate_, he thought dully. The Fire Navy ship had cut a huge swath between the ocean and the village, and it made all of the ice around it unstable. The women were apparently of the same thought, and he could see them milling back and forth, taking down tent poles and setting the children to task packing up supplies.

Zuko was gone. Taken.

Sokka's stomach twisted painfully from deep inside and he rubbed angrily at his eyes. He wasn't crying. Men didn't cry. He was just… frustrated, was all. And worried. After all, he knew his brother's heart was in the right place, but if he'd just paused and thought things out for once instead of just putting himself up as a hostage…

… except that Sokka hadn't thought of a better idea at the time.

He cursed low under his breath and ignored that the back of his hand came down wet with angry tears. He wasn't going to stand there and wonder what he was going to tell Dad when he finally came home… no, he was going to do something about this. The safety of his little brother was his responsibility, just as the village was his responsibility.

He strode back towards the center of the village, hardly noticing how the little boys he had spent so much time training watched him with wide, blue eyes. To them, he was their warrior. The controlled anger in his step, the set and determined look on his face made them stop and stare in awe.

Sokka found Gran Gran just outside their tent, using a sharp knife to saw through some of the hemp ties that bound the cloth to the poles. "You're going after them?" She didn't need to look up as she asked this, because it hadn't been really a question at all. After all, it was the same thing that Hakoda would have done.

"I'm taking the canoe," Sokka confirmed. "Get everyone packed and moving as soon as possible. The Fire Nation will probably want revenge once I've freed Zuko and Aang and you can't be here."

Kana looked at him then, for the first time as a man. Normally Sokka would have preened, but at that moment his mind was elsewhere, planning. "We could set up the village again under Wolf's Head Peak. Katara knows that spot and when she comes back, she'll probably look there first."

Suddenly a low, deep sound, like a weary groan was heard, echoing off of the far snow banks and dips. Sokka turned and saw the silhouetted form of the giant bison lumbering over the rest of a nearby snowdrift. Katara sat on his head.

"Katara!" In a instant, Sokka was off and running. His sister slipped from the bison's head, and the two siblings embraced. In another community, in another culture, Katara would have been expected to apologize and explain her behavior. That wasn't how it worked in the Water Tribe. The fact that she had come back was all the apology that Sokka would ever need.

Katara pulled back after a moment, her eyes lingered on the ship-sized hole in the ice, the crushed icewall, the grim faces of the rest of the tribe…. and notably, the people who were missing from it. "What happened?"

"Aang told them that he was the Avatar and they took him and Zuko because he threw fire at them."

She sagged at his words, hands gripping at his elbows, looking for purchase. Sokka gripped her back, giving her a little shake to catch her attention. "It's okay. I'm going after them… I'm going to bring them back. You need to go with the women—"

"What?" She stared at him in shock. "No way, I'm coming with you!"

"No, it's too dangerous." In the corner of his eye, he caught Kana coming up to meet them. Sokka turned, almost whining, the kid that he was once more showing through. "Gran Gran, she has to stay here, right?"

But his grandmother was tugging something along behind her; a small sled packed with three sleeping bags, a sack full of food, and although the kids wouldn't know until sometime later, a small skin filled with the Tribe's meager supplies of coin. "Sokka, it is as much her destiny as it is yours to help the Avatar."

"But Aang's not the Avatar!" he looked from female to another, bleakly wondering why he was only ever the sane one in this family sometimes. "Do you think the real Avatar would allow himself to be captured? Why didn't he just blow them up with some awesome Avatar power?"

And just like that, it fit all into place for Katara. "Because he has to learn the elements before he could use them!" Her voice grew higher in her excitement, her eyes bright. "When we were exploring the ship, Aang and I talked and we figured out he must have been frozen for one-hundred years. That's the same time that the Avatar disappeared!"

"Look, I know you like him, but—"

"It has to be him, Sokka! Don't you remember Dad's stories? The Avatar has to master the elements according to the seasons… that's why he came down here. He needs to learn Water next!"

Kana nodded slowly. Her eyes were tired behind her mass of wrinkles; sad. "She's right, Sokka. And now, your destiny lies with him." She reached out, taking Sokka's hand and wrapping the hemp rope tied to the sled around it.

"Gran Gran…" But there was nothing more Sokka could say, and the old women moved to Katara.

"We were wrong to try to keep you here, my young waterbender. I'm so proud of you, and I know your mother would be as well." She hugged Katara, and then stepped back to address Sokka. "And Sokka, be sure to give Zuko my love… and be nice to your sister."

"Ugh, I — we just can't…he's not…" His protest was half-hearted at best, and with a shaky smile, Kana turned from her grandchildren and walked back down towards the village.

Katara turned, eyeing the small sled of supplies and then the canoe. There was no way they would be able to catch a battleship with that. So she turned, reaching a hand up to gently stroke Appa's velvety muzzle. "Aang is in trouble, Appa. We need to catch up to the ship. Do you think you could fly us there?"

The bison let out a low, mournful moan.

"I think that means, no," Sokka grumbled.

"I think it means yes." Katara reached over, snagging the rope from Sokka's hands and dragged the sled behind the beast to the wide beaver-tail. "Help me load him up."

Sokka grumbled, but did as he was told, and a few minutes later he was sitting sullenly back up in the saddle with Katara at the head. He had protested that he should be the one to drive the thing, but then Katara pointed out that he didn't believe Appa could fly anyway, so what was matter? She had a point.

"Up. Arise. Ascend," he commanded, rolling his eyes; ever the backseat driver.

Katara snapped the reins, but Appa didn't move a muscle. What was it that Aang had said...? Then she had it.

"Appa! Yip-yip!"

The beast gathered himself and with a sweep of his tail, launched into the air.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

Zuko could see Aang sag slightly next to him, but the kid was putting on a brave face, so he said nothing. They were walked up a metal staircase to the main deck where they could breathe open air. Already, the ship was moving away and Zuko turned to see that his village had already become a vague outline against the horizon.

The General stood before them for a long moment, golden eyes flicking back and forth between the Avatar and the firebender in indecision. Then he nodded towards Zuko.

"Lieutenant Izhar, please secure the Avatar below deck." The old General said, "Lieutenant Ji, you will assist me in interrogation of the traitor."

Zuko snarled at the word, but was cuffed upside the head. And with a quick, "Yes, Prince Iroh," Lieutenant Ji pushed him towards a ramped staircase leading to what looked like the captain's cabin.

Zuko didn't struggle, although he wanted too, because he had promised away his freedom in exchange for his Tribe's safety, and he was a man of his word. He went proudly, with a sniff of distain to the metal ramparts and fastenings as he passed. These Fire Nation people were so proud of their little machines, but he had seen the Water Tribe build better ships using just wood.

The interior was decorated in red hangings and plush overstuffed furniture. Both a tsungi horn and five-string liuqin sat leaned carefully against stands in the corner. Two separate fireplaces were stoked to full blast on each side of the room, making air feel uncomfortably warm and the skin on Zuko's face itch under his war-paint.

A tea set sat on a nearby low table, and General Iroh headed straight towards it. "Please, sit," he said, and Zuko was promptly pushed down into a kneeling position under the Lieutenant's hand. Iroh pretended not to notice and went about humming under his breath while he brewed. "Tea?" he asked, pouring himself a cup.

Zuko glowered and then looked away. He would have none of that Fire Nation swill.

The General took a sip, then inclined his head, walking over to the table and taking his own seat in a comfy over-stuffed chair. "What is your name?"

Zuko fixed his gaze on a far point in on the wall, focusing on a painting of what looked like a lotus flower, and said nothing.

"Very well, then. Where were the men of your village?" Iroh asked.

No answer.

The General sighed. "I can see that you are young, and confused. Please understand that no one will hurt you here, but I do need to know how a young firebender like yourself came to be living with the Water Tribe."

Zuko's jaw tensed nearly imperceptibly, but he kept his silence.

"There have been raids on this spot in the past, sir," Lieutenant Ji said, tentatively. "One of the men could have gotten carried away, and this boy could have been the result."

The old man hummed for a moment. "Perhaps." He did not look happy with that theory, but he didn't offer up any other explanation. "Lieutenant, it is a shame to see a Fire Nation face obscured by paint."

"Yes sir." Taking the cue, Lieutenant Ji hauled Zuko up by his collar and shoved him outside to a small balcony. There was a water barrel set against the railing to collect the rain, and wash the dishes. Ji walked him forward and before Zuko could make a sound of protest, his head was dunked forcefully in it.

Zuko could hold his breath for a long time, having the practice during the summer when it was safe to swim, but Ji fisted his hair and brought him up only for a second before plunging his head under again and again. He was breathless and gasping by the time he was let up. Rivets of water ran down his face and neck, all black and white war-paint gone — his features and scars completely visible. With another shove, Ji brought him back inside.

"Much better now, sir."

"Excellent." Iroh was at his desk, peering at a map of what looked like the South Pole. He didn't glance up at their arrival, instead absently took another sip of his tea. "Now, what I would like to know is—" he looked at Zuko, and his words faltered. The teacup slipped from his fingers and fell, staining the map in soft brown liquid. "Zuko?!" And then, to Zuko's complete surprise and shock, the General stood up, reached across the desk, and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Wha— Get off me!" Somehow, Zuko was able to wrench himself away. He fell to the ground, and struggled away, falling back again when Iroh hurried around the oaken desk to haul him back up. "Don't touch me!"

For his part, Lieutenant Ji stood to the side, frozen, just as shocked as Iroh. "Zuko?" he repeated, looking to his General. "Surely not… that Zuko? Prince Zuko?"

"I do not know such a thing can be possible." Iroh stared at Zuko as if he was looking at an aberration, a ghost. "You are dead."

Dead? Prince… no… no… He shook his head vigorously, trying to scoot away. He came only to the far wall. "You're crazy. I don't know who you are."

"You have been presumed dead for over six years." Then Iroh's light amber eyes sharpened with such intensity that Zuko cringed back, despite himself. Iroh's voice went from kindly to fierce in the blink of an eye. "Who did this to you?" he demanded, striding forward and gesturing angrily to the scar around Zuko's left eye, then to his neck. "Did the Water Tribe abduct you?"

"N-no… I… They saved my life!"

"Prince—"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

It was as if the words had made all the tension suddenly snap in the room, and replaced it with some kind of unearthly silence. Iroh and Ji exchanged a look while Zuko finally struggled to his feet, bracing himself against the far wall. Zuko looked from one man to the other. "I am not a Prince, and I am not Fire Nation. My… my father's name is Hakoda and when he hears what's happened—" Until this point he had kept his voice in a sort of steel calm, but now it broke and he swallowed convulsively. Dad was a world away and he needed him so much right now. "When— when he finds out you've attacked our village, he will come and kill you." Again he swallowed. His heart was hammering and his mouth was dry, "If I don't kill you, first."

The threat hung, empty in the air. "I remember you as a child," Iroh said after a long moment, returning to his desk to pick up the teacup. He regarded it for a moment, a finger tracing the round edge. "You used to play with my son, Lu Ten, around the turtle-duck pond in the palace gardens. You were a willful boy, just as you are a willful young man. I can see that."

His words should have struck a chord, but there was nothing in Zuko's memory. It was, as it had ever been, a blank. "I don't know who you are." It came out more as a plea than anything else.

"I am your uncle, Zuko."

Zuko stared at him, at the face which showed a strange mix of kindness and a calculating fierceness. His heart was thumping too wildly, his mind too scattered to tell if there was any resemblance at all between the two of them. He knew that he didn't recognize the face. This General might as well have been a perfect stranger. "I don't believe you," he said, although his thoughts were racing… six years… he said he'd been missing for over six years….

Now he saw clearly the flash of pain — however briefly — cross Iroh's face. "Lieutenant Ji," he said, turning to the other man. "Please alert the helmsman to reverse course."

"No!" Zuko started towards him, but he was no threat to them with his hands bound behind his back. "You promised you would leave them alone!"

"Someone has made you forget who you are, Zuko. I will have answers one way or another."

This was a nightmare. He could feel Iroh's amber gaze on him, watching his reaction closely. The Fire Nation General had all the leverage, and he had nothing. When Zuko spoke, his words felt like ash in his mouth. "Stop… Just — I'll tell you what you want. I'll tell you everything. Just don't hurt them. Please." He couldn't even look the General in the face, for he was nearly begging now. Begging to the man who represented the people he hated most

Perhaps it was Zuko's imagination, but he could almost hear the whistle of the wind, just outside the large porthole. When he looked up, he saw Iroh nod to Ji. Had they heard it too? The man bowed, one fist under his vertical palm, and walk out.

To his surprise and relief, the General turned his back to him and sat calmly again at the table, taking up a new cup of tea. Clearly, he was waiting.

"They… They found me on a ship. I was sick and hurt. They took me in and gave me a home…." He trailed off, looking miserably at the floor. There was nothing to the story, really. He wished he had Sokka's talent for embellishments to make it at least interesting.

Iroh stared at him calmly over his teacup. "Sit down, Prince Zuko." He indicated the table again, and this time Zuko sat. To his surprise, the General came up behind him and with a soft _snick_ his bounds were cut. Zuko rubbed his chapped wrists, but didn't make a move to get up. Iroh hadn't said anything, but he could feel the man's presence like a power in itself in the room. If he made a move, he'd be down before he got to the door… and the Water Tribe was still in jeopardy.

And now the interrogation truly began.

"You were found on an Earth Kingdom ship?"

"Earth…? No." He shook his head. "Fire Nation."

Iroh's eyes widened in surprise and he was silent for a moment. Then, "What happened?"

The General didn't know? Zuko felt a flash of frustration, and he clenched his fists. "You tell me!" he snapped. Surely this old man was toying with him. "The first thing I remember is waking up on a Water Tribe ship." _What happened to me?_

He expected Iroh to snap back at him or to treat this as a lie. After all, even the Water Tribe men had been dubious at first about his lost memories. But the old man simply nodded once and continued sipping his tea as if they were having a casual conversation between old acquaintances rather than some strange prisoner interrogation.

Then Iroh asked him a question he did not expect.

"Who taught you to firebend?"

It took him by surprise. "No one," he blurted, "I taught myself."

"You firebend like a waterbender. Fire is not an element of defense, Prince Zuko. Treating as such weakens your power."

Zuko raised his chin. "I _am _Water Tribe."

Aside from their voices, it had been completely silent in the cabin, for the walls were thickly insulated and the quarters were located far above the noisy engine room. But now there was a sound — so faint that it almost wasn't there at all — the high whistle of the wind. Before either Zuko or Iroh had time to process the noise, a distinct thud sounded across the cabin door, as if something heavy had been thrown bodily across it.

Zuko tensed, waiting, hoping…

The whistle became an enraged bellow of air. The door slammed open, and Iroh stood up.

Zuko seized his chance and tipped the table between himself and the General, blocking the fireball aimed in Aang's direction. It only took a moment for Iroh to kick it out of his way. Aang — he had somehow not only gotten free, but had also recovered his airstaff — circled his arms, and a rush of air slammed the General and the table up against the far wall.

"Good timing." Zuko's grin was strained, but he clapped Aang on the shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

"Prince Zuko."

He didn't know why, but the General's voice made him pause at the door and look back. Iroh was slowly standing, collecting himself; and at that moment he seemed very old.

Aang tugged on his sleeve, his grey eyes wide. "Zuko, c'mon!"

Iroh did not attack again. Instead, he folded his hands within his robes. "I have been given a mission by the Fire Lord to capture the Avatar," he said, his voice grave. "If you do this, if you leave with this boy, you will be declared an enemy of the Fire Nation. The Fire Lord's wrath will be terrible, and I will not be able to help you."

Zuko looked for a long, long moment upon the man, and even though he did not recognize the face from his past, he saw the truth of his words in his eyes.

Still, Zuko wasn't tempted and it wasn't hard to turn his back on him, murmur, "Let's go," and run with the Avatar down the long steel corridor…

…away from his past and to a different type of future all together.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Zuko had to fall flat backwards in order to avoid the bloom of fire aimed for him. He and Aang's escape had lasted long enough to get to open air on the wide deck. But by that time the alarm had been sounded and the anchor had been thrown to halt the ship.

Every available hand had come up top to stop the escapees.

Now the two boys were fighting for their lives against Imperial firebenders.

The flame curled overhead.  Zuko rolled away, avoiding being scorched by inches. He scrambled to his feet, and he and an enemy firebender faced each other, circling. There was a cruel twist to the other man's lips. He held himself in a stiff stance, like the open jaws of a steel trap with Zuko in the middle.

"What's the matter, Water Tribe? Can't take the heat?"

Zuko's fists shook. He punched out: a quick jab of motion imitating what he had seen the soldiers do. But that was not how he bent flame. His own fire bloomed out weak, dissipating a mere foot away, and he heard the soldier's harsh cackle in his ears as he once again was forced to roll to the side to avoid getting burned.

And now he was backed up against the very edge of the deck. There weren't any bars or safety railings — just a sharp steel drop-off for dozens of feet to the cold churning sea.

The soldier pressed forward, backing the boy's heels to the edge. Zuko was scared, but his mind felt strangely clear. Fighting like _them_ wasn't going to work. A firebender's strategy was to attack and keep on attacking — so Zuko forced himself to wait instead, hands held out with one palm up and one down.

When the burst of flame came, it was almost in slow motion to his senses. He reached out as if to grab, and with one smooth movement, twisted the fire into a wreath around him. Then, with a shove, he threw it back.

The Imperial firebender moved to block — a quick, almost angry motion — but it was nothing against the literal wave of fire. He was blown backward, saved from a burning by his thick layer of armor.

And two more firebenders rushed to take his place.

Meanwhile, Aang's feet hardly seemed to touch the deck for a spare second as he leapt and flipped, dancing around the fire attacks and returning with forceful blasts of air. Three men in the water now clung to hastily thrown life-rings, having made the mistake of facing an airbender too close to the edge of the deck.

But Aang was sorely outnumbered, and a rash of red along his right arm told of one close encounter. Airbending Master or no, he was dueling at least ten firebenders.

From his spot on the balcony, Prince Iroh watched the melee. There was no need to involve himself; it was more than obvious the boys fight for freedom would be over shortly. This time Iroh intended to assign every able body, save the cook, to guard the child Avatar.

And as for his nephew…

Iroh's eyes shifted over to the smaller, less spectacular battle. He watched the boy — and he looked so much like Lu Ten at that age — barely cut a swath between two jets of flame and divert them harmlessly to each side. When the fire had cleared, Zuko was unhurt, but even Iroh could see how he gasped in air with every breath. He had lost his breath control.

A bright flash of orange drew Iroh's attention away. One of his soldiers had finally caught up to the Avatar's tricks, sending a blast right in his path. The boy yelped in surprise and dissipated the flame in a whirlwind — at the cost of his own altitude. He fell heavily to the deck and was instantly surrounded by a ring of firebenders, their fists cocked.

Zuko blocked another rolling ball of fire just in time by throwing up his arms and creating a defensive wall. He had maneuvered himself away from the edge of the deck, but had accidentally backed up against the plated wall of the engine room. A firebender or an earthbender could use close quarters to their advantage… a waterbender could not. He was as good as beaten.

Then, a noise like a low deep groan or a foghorn, echoed through the air. But that was impossible. Iroh's ship was all alone out in the Southern Seas.

All activity paused — only one person on the ship knew the source of that noise.

Aang lifted his head from the deck, his grin wide enough to split his face in two. "Appa!"

A rush of white, and a creature every Fire Nation child was told had been extinct, landed on their deck. One slap of his wide beaver-like tail and half the firebenders surrounding Aang were blown away like a scattering of autumn leaves. Aang leapt up again and slammed his airstaff down, blowing away two more firebenders.

The soldiers fighting Zuko had stopped to gape at the creature, and he took his chance, lancing out what he intended to be a torrent of fire, and what ended up as a crackle of hot sparks — easily blocked by the closest man. The soldier retaliated with a swift fiery kick.

Zuko ducked and threw up his hands, instinctively trying to block, but there was no hope…

Then from nowhere, the Imperial firebender was bowled over by a large banked wave. The flames, now under no one's control, rolled harmlessly around Zuko and into nothingness.

A hand reached out and Zuko took it, smiling. "Nice waterbending."

"Thanks," Katara replied, grinning back.

Maybe more words would have passed between them; maybe an apology or perhaps nothing at all. But a moment later Zuko caught sight of a new danger: Prince Iroh had strode onto the deck, no longer content to watch from above.

A surge of fear gripped Zuko. He knew this man was too formidable to beat. It was time to leave.

"C'mon!" Grabbing Katara's wrist, he yanked her at full run for the safety of the bison. Aang was still dodging the remaining benders — he had not seen the danger yet. "Aang, we're leaving!" he called, glancing back towards the General — the man who had said he was his uncle.

And for the second time he caught, just for a moment, the indecision on Iroh's face as his amber gaze flicked over both Zuko and Aang. This time, he chose Aang.

The young airbender had only a moment to jump clear of the first set of fireballs, using his rotating airstaff to give him lift. But it was a slow escape.

"NO!" Zuko pivoted in his stance, reaching around to divert — but Iroh's blast of fire was too strong and it slipped past his reach — and at the same time Katara tried to summon an icewall between the flames and Aang… but it was too brittle to stop anything….

The Avatar turned his airstaff, cycling it desperately — he was blown right off the deck and into the cold sea.

Katara screamed, "NO! AANG! AANG!" and Zuko had to grab her by the waist to keep her from diving after him.

Sokka jumped down from the bison's head to help. "Katara! Stop! You can't—"

And in another instant, they were surrounded by the remaining firebenders.

With the threat of the airbender gone, the General turned to face the Water Tribe teens, hands once more tucked benignly within his robes. But before Iroh could speak, before any one of the siblings could truly begin to feel afraid, there was a rush of water, the sound of wind and… something not seen for over one-hundred years rose above the deck upon a cyclone of water.

It was Aang, but it was like no one had seen before. Like no one could even imagine.

His light blue tattoos glowed with an unearthly light. His eyes were gone, swallowed in white as if the peaceful little monk was only a shell containing the spirit within.

He was the Avatar.

The Avatar landed on the deck with enough force and power to shiver the metal plates. A couple of brave souls blasted fire balls, but the Avatar swept those away with a living tentacle of water. Air and Water worked together seamlessly, and with one outward push the walls of the cyclone shoved a wall of water, knocking the enemy off their own ship.

The Avatar stood on the deck, but with the Fire Nation soldiers gone, the white light flickered and died, leaving only Aang.

Katara rushed to his side, putting a helping hand under his arm as Aang wobbled in his stance.

"Aang… That was amazing!"

"Now that's what I call Avatar power!" Sokka crowed as he and Zuko rushed to join them.

The young monk looked up, confused and a little dazed. "What… What just happened?"

Zuko looked up, his gaze traveling past them all. Prince Iroh had wisely backed up to the stair rampart at the Avatar's return, wisely avoiding being washed overboard like the rest of his men.

"We need to leave," Zuko said.

The General made no move to stop them, but they all felt the weight of his gaze, and when Zuko looked back for the last time after scrambling aboard Appa, Iroh gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Then Aang had called out, "Yip-yip" and the bison surged into the air. Within moments the ship was a small toy-sized thing drifting among the sea and ice.

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

It took two hours to fish the remaining crew from the icy sea. The Spirits had been kind in some ways — there hadn't been any deaths. Iroh was still kept busy, pressing cups of hot tea into cold hands and ordering bed-rest to his men both for chills and bruised egos.

Needless to say, music-night was canceled.

A sharp knock on the door would have caused Iroh to spill ink from his brush, if his hand wasn't naturally so steady. He wrote the last few characters — his signature — and rose from the desk to let it dry. "Come in."

He was unsurprised to see Lieutenant Ji stride in. Iroh let the man bow before addressing him. "The summons weren't urgent, Lieutenant. I was hoping you would get your rest."

"No one can sleep with the sun up like this. I'm fine, sir." Although his cheeks were still ruddy from his extended forced swim. "You have orders, my Prince?"

Iroh nodded and crossed the room to close the cabin door. He did not wish this conversation to be overheard. "This is not an order — it is a request, and one that is strictly off the record."

The Lieutenant's thick eyebrows shot right into his salt-and-pepper hair, but Iroh ignored the expression and went back to the desk to lift the scroll. The ink was good quality; it had dried quickly, and Iroh remained silent as he crumbled some wax and then melted it over the seam of the scroll, affixing it with the royal stamp.

"Do you have any children, Lieutenant Ji?"

"I have a daughter," he replied. "She's about seven years old, and she lives with my parents." There was a pause and when Iroh didn't offer any further explanation Ji hesitantly inquired, "Sir?"

The General sat down at the desk, motioning for Ji to take the other seat. His face was troubled, more troubled than Ji had ever seen him before. "I had first learned of my nephew's death scarcely after I had started to come to terms with the passing of my own son, Lu Ten," he said, after a long silence. "I had been on a quest… a spiritual quest, but against the advice of a friend I decided to return to the Fire Nation. I knew my family would need me. Two children lost in such a short amount of time… both to enemies of the Fire Nation. It nearly broke my family apart. And now, I find that one is still alive."

"Sir—" Ji hesitated, glancing at the steel cabin door which assured their privacy. He knew he could always be frank in Iroh's presence, but this would be coming very close to stepping over the line. "The boy is in league with an enemy nation… in league with the Avatar! You can't — he is a _traitor_, sir."

"You take a boy," Iroh said, his voice soft and full of memories of a young, happy, fiery child. A child who used to yell out 'Uncle!' and throw his arms about his legs when he came home from battles. "And you remove him from his family before his formative years. Then you tell him that everything he knows is evil and wrong, and punish him when he speaks of it." His hand went up, brushing under his own left eye for emphasis. "And you praise and accept him only him when he seeks out his new family. Zuko was only ten years old when he disappeared. I have seen full grown prisoners break under lesser circumstances."

The Lieutenant's jaw set, and he gave a stiff nod. "I didn't think of it in that light. Spirits above, they now have a Fire Nation royal about to come of age who is loyal to only the Water Tribes. It's… ingenious." He glanced out the port-hole, to the vista of sea and ice. "I didn't think the barbarians would have it in them."

"I do not believe that they do."

"Sir?"

The General raised his hand to stroke his beard, but whatever his thoughts were, he did not share them out loud. "My nephew mentioned a name… Hakoda? Have you heard of this man before?"

Ji cleared his throat. "Yes, sir. He is reported to be the leader of a fleet of Water Tribe ships which have caused minor problems for us on the eastern Earth Kingdom coast." Left unsaid was that had Iroh not been treating this hunt for the Avatar like a sort of early retirement-cruise, he would have kept up to date on Fire Nation communications.

Iroh's face darkened, but he was not bothered by the insinuation. He was thinking of Zuko's scars. "Whatever the bounty is on his head, I want it tripled." With that order, he pushed the sealed scroll across the desk. "This letter is for Princess Ursa's eyes only. It is very important… that Prince Ozai not see it."

"I understand, sir." Taking the scroll, Ji tucked it within one of the folds of his tunic. "But with all due respect, if he is traveling with the Avatar it will be just a matter of time before the truth is found out."

"I will hope by that time, it will not be an issue. The Fire Lord has commanded me to search for the Avatar, and I have found him. He is young, yes, but what we saw is just a taste of his full power. He must be stopped." General Iroh paused, "But now I also have a second objective… I intend to bring Prince Zuko home."

 

 

* * *

 

**OoOoOoO**

* * *

 

 

"We have to head North," Sokka announced, once the initial exhilaration of their escape had faded. "We'll lead the Fire Nation away from the village."

Zuko had spotted the packed supplies which had been tied securely to the saddle; he had guessed as much, but Sokka's words had with them the weight of finality. He realized for the first time that it would be long while before he saw home again. He turned, looking out behind them and silently watching the high peaks of white fade off into the distance — his mind buzzing with… everything.

Suddenly the mood, which had just moments before been jubilant, became melancholy and almost sad. Aang sat off to the side, knees tucked up to his chin and Katara scooted over to his side.

"Aang," she said, and the young airbender looked up. "Why didn't you tell us you were the Avatar?"

"Because I never wanted to be," came the soft, sad reply.

"What you did with the water… That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen." Katara beamed at him, and tentatively, Aang smiled back.

"Thanks, but I don't really know how I did it. I just… did it." Despite his modesty, Aang visibly perked up. He looked around happily, not seeming to notice how Zuko was trying to avoid catching his eye. He hoped that the kid would get the hint. Of course, he didn't. "So why did that General guy call you a prince?"

"What?" Katara snapped. Abruptly Zuko felt the weight of everyone's attention on himself.

He sighed and looked out to sea. "I don't know," he said, hedging. "That 'General guy' is Prince Iroh." A random fact came into his mind, as it had done when he had first thought about the solstice; a piece of Fire Nation information, completely without emotion or accompanying memory. "If that's true, he's the next in line to the throne, and he said… He said he's my uncle."

Katara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, and Zuko crossed his arms, feeling defensive, and not quite knowing why.

It was Sokka who spoke next, though, in his typical, cynical way. "Well, do you believe him?"

"I don't know," Zuko said, again. He paused, considering. "He was trying to get information from me about the Tribe. He knew my name, though…" And he knew how long he had been missing, but he didn't want to add that.

"I could have said your name when we were fighting those soldiers." Sokka rubbed the back of his neck in thought. "I can't remember."

"Yeah." Zuko wanted desperately to believe him. It _was_ possible Sokka called out his name. So many things had happened so fast. Prince Iroh could have taken that piece of information and run with it. "Maybe…"

If the boys were willing to delude themselves, Katara wasn't. She spoke, tentatively. "Do you remember anything about him?"

"No." On this, he was at least certain. It seemed like he would remember his own uncle, right? He could remember tons of useless stuff about the Fire Nation — all of the islands, all of the governors and the name of the major Generals, or at least the ones in favor of the Fire Lord…

… which happened to be the exact things a prince would be educated on.

A sick sensation bubbled within his gut, and he looked away again out to sea in case any of the others saw a flash of the fear and doubt on his face. He couldn't be a Fire Nation Prince. He… he just couldn't.

Sokka was the one who summed it up, like he was often able to do with stupid or amazing events, a half-smile on his handsome, tanned face. "So you're saying," he waited a beat, "that I'm sitting in a saddle with the Prince of the Fire Nation _and_ the Avatar?"

Aang chuckled, weakly, but in good humor. Zuko just shot his brother a glare. "I'm not a Prince!"

"Oh, I'm sorry." Sokka touched his hand to his chest, as if in a bow. "Your highness."

"Shut up!" But now Sokka was bowing down so low, and with such comic reverence that Zuko couldn't help the bubble of laughter in his voice. He reached over, shoving the other boy hard. "Idiot…" It was said with fondness, and abruptly Sokka was upright again and grinning, giving a friendly shove back.

"You may be a Prince, you know, but you're still my little brother."

It was meant to be a mostly-manly hug that followed, but Zuko needed it more than he knew, and held on to Sokka. Then Katara followed and Zuko met her eyes for a moment and knew he wasn't upset at her for leaving the village. He could never stay angry at her for very long.

Poor Aang sat off to the side, smiling wistfully, but obviously the outsider. Katara, of course, could be counted on to say the exact right thing.

"Come over here, Aang. You're part of the family now, too."

Aang's grey eyes lit up and when he joined the group-hug, it felt right.

"So," said Sokka, after they separated, "We need to come up with a plan."

Katara looked thoughtful. "According to legend, the Avatar needs to learn the elements in order. You know Air, Aang. So next would be Water, Earth and then Fire." She ticked off the elements as she spoke.

"That's what the monks told me."

And now her smile was just a bit like Sokka's at his most devious. "Well, if we go to the North Pole you can master waterbending."

"And, oh hey, so could you!" Zuko cut in with a roll of his eyes, not even bothering to pretend he didn't see her ulterior motive.

Aang, of course, didn't catch the sarcasm. "We can learn it together!"

She turned to her brothers, her smile now sweet. "And I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to see more firebending. And," she turned to Sokka, "you two will get to knock some Fire Nation heads on the way."

She had said the magic words. Zuko couldn't help but feel a bit wistful at the thought of learning more — he had barely held his own on the ship, and he certainly had no intention of letting his sister outstrip him in bending.

At his side, Sokka sighed almost dreamily. "I would like that. I would really like that."

"Then we're in this together," Katara said, with a bit of finality.

Aang turned and dug around in his small pack, coming out with a scroll. "All right, but before I learn waterbending, we have some serious business to attend to here." He pointed to a spot on the map. "Here, and here."

Sokka shifted around and came behind Aang, reading the map over his shoulder. "No way," he said, and his voice was full of the same sort of stubbornness Zuko had heard a hundred times before when he was trying to lead him and Katara on some crazy adventure. "They'll expect us to go to the Southern Air Temple first. It's too obvious. We can faint them out if we circle around here." He poked a finger to some of the pale-shaded islands.

As Aang and Sokka planned, Zuko found his mind wandering and turned to look out behind them. Off in the distance, a slight discoloration beyond the edge of the horizon, he could just make out a lazy draft of smoke. Iroh's ship was in full pursuit.

The Fire Nation would be after the Avatar… and even if the General wasn't telling the truth, Zuko knew that they would be after him as well, a rogue firebender.

Zuko’s light gold eyes narrowed. He and Sokka had failed in protecting their village, and he was determined that wouldn’t happen again. He would learn firebending as best he could. He would protect his family, and its newest member. He wasn't some haughty Prince. He had lived and _thrived_ on the ice. He was Water Tribe.

All the Fire Nation had ever been to him were nightmares and scars.

 


	9. Siege of Kyoshi Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's picture "cuddling" was drawn by the talented GreenAppleFreak! (http://greenapplefreak.deviantart.com/art/Cuddling-144349304)

 

 

 

**One other real quick note… I'm intentionally throwing as many wrenches in the plot as humanly possible so it doesn't end up being Season 1 with Zuko just there for extra comments, or something.**

**Also, YES I fucked up with the timeline of the war balloons. For some reason, when writing this chapter, I thought they were already a part of the Fire Nation's arsenal. So I'm totally handwaving that as a butterfly effect of Zuko's disappearance from the Fire Nation... uh, somehow. **

 

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

Your future is full of struggle and anguish, most of it self-inflicted_._

_\- Aunt Wu to Sokka, The Fortuneteller_

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Sokka convinced Aang to set the bison for north. Best to make their path obvious to the pursuing Fire Nation ship and draw them as far away from the village as possible.

The further they flew — Appa's speed winding down from a desperate sprint to a more relaxed glide — the deeper the midnight-sun sank below the horizon. This made sense, when the kids paused to think about it. They were reaching the arctic circle and when they were no longer at the extreme edge of the world, the sun would rise and fall like it did in most other places, even in the middle of summer.

Iroh's ship was soon swallowed in the darkness behind them.

"Just… Just gonna take a nap." Zuko muttered, nodding as he spoke. No one was fooled. His chin dropped to his chest, and within a few minutes he was curled up and deeply asleep in the bison's saddle. After weeks of being exposed to the midnight sun, his body had crashed at the first sign of darkness.

Aang was flagging, too — both boys had an exhausting day, and he didn't put up too much of an objection when Sokka started wheedling to take over driver's duties on Appa's head. The young monk trudged back to the saddle and curled next to Zuko.

Katara sat, watching over them. The moon was only half-full, but so brilliant and the air so cold and crisp that she could see them both almost as if they were lit by a pale sun: Avatar and Prince.

The chill that went up her spine had nothing to do with the night air.

She flipped up the hood of her parka, sinking herself into the furs and pretending she were being snuggled by someone warm and secure: Maybe Dad… maybe Mom.

In some ways, it was easy to accept that Aang was the Avatar — he had appeared into their lives so dramatically — but even then it was hard to reconcile in her mind her cheerful friend with the powerful spirit that had swept all the firebenders off their own ship. Looking at him sleeping beside her brother, it was hard to believe that he could stop the war.

Katara shook her head and reached up to touch the blue stone of her necklace, as if in a talisman against those unworthy thoughts.

Stranger still was thinking of Zuko as a prince. Some years ago, Katara had stopped thinking of him as Fire Nation at all. He was her brother. Her strong willed, determined, passionate, bone-headed brother. He loved their father's stories as much as she did, both he and Sokka took their warrior duties too seriously, and he got stomach aches when he ate too many white snow-nuts. Thinking of him as royalty, the _enemy's_ royalty, was absurd.

As she looked on, Aang shifted in his sleep and pressed his back up against Zuko's back, seeking out his body heat. The other boy didn't stir.

Katara's lip trembled, and then twitched upward into an almost maternal smile. Searching through their supplies, she unfolded one of the thick fur blankets and laid it over them.

Then she got up, walking across Appa's wide back to join Sokka at the driver's seat. She gave him a soft smile in greeting, which wasn't returned. He was busy staring out to sea, his back stiff and the leather reins tightly grasped in his mittens.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

He sent her a sidelong look, and didn't answer her question directly. "We should find land soon. Get some rest."

"I'm fine, for now." She sat quiet for a moment, hands folded in her lap, expecting Sokka to speak again. If there was one thing that was constant about her eldest brother, it was that he hardly ever kept anything bottled inside. But the silence stretched on, and finally, shifting uncomfortably, she spoke. "Is this… about Zuko?"

That jerked him out of his melancholy silence. "Zuko? No… What?"

"You know, about him being a prince."

Sokka rolled his eyes, and at once he was the brother she knew again. All intelligence and biting sarcasm. "The only thing Zuko is prince of is annoying little brothers." He tugged on Appa's reins. Out in the distance, looking like a black smudge set against charcoal colored waters, sat a small strip of land. "That General guy was just trying to butter him up."

"But—"

"It's an interrogation technique, Katara. You're a girl," he added, flippantly. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"What does me being a girl have to do with anything?"

"Look, this isn't sewing and baking. It’s strategy."

She considered, just for a moment, about bringing up a soaking wave of icy water and showing him exactly what this 'girl' was capable of. But before she could act on that impulse, he continued.

"Think about it, Katara. Zuko's been living with us for seven years—"

"Six years."

"Fine. And if someone that important—If a _Prince_ of a whole nation went missing…. They just wouldn't shrug and forget about it. Zuko is not a prince. You know that Dad's men might have—" He stopped, cutting off his words with a click of his teeth, and he pulled again on Appa's reigns as if in distraction.

Normally, Katara would not have let that go. But now the bison was angling down, and she clutched almost fearfully at the steady black horn in front of her for balance. The strip of land was nothing more than a rocky rise somehow up-thrust in the middle of the southern sea. There was just enough room for Appa to land, although choppy sea waves beat on the island in all directions sending cold spray periodically over them all.

The bison didn't seem to mind — perhaps his fur was so thick that he didn't even feel it. With a shift of weight that made both Water Tribe siblings reach again for the steady horns, he hunkered himself down and let out a long, resting sigh.

"We'll be kind of doomed if this magical monster rolls over in his sleep," Sokka joked, standing up to reach towards the starlit sky in a long stretch. "I don't think he will, though, with Aang on his back."

They made their careful way up to the softly padded saddle. Katara pulled out another blanket to keep out the sea-spray and lay down next to Zuko, taking advantage of his unnaturally warm body heat. She expected Sokka to take his place — perhaps on the other side of Aang as added protection for the younger boy. But he kept himself apart on the other side of the saddle. She saw his outline, dark against the spray of glittering stars, watching over them with a troubled, guilty look on his face.

It occurred to her just as she was falling asleep that perhaps it wasn't Aang or Zuko who needed a helping hand; a supportive ear: It was Sokka.

 

* * *

**  
OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

In the South Pole, grass grew in more or less dry patches upon thinnest part of the permafrost, and then only during the summer months. During the first snowfalls, what little life was able to eek its way out of the snow was quickly covered and forgotten about.

It was nothing, _nothing_ like this.

Seeing the bewildered expressions on his friend's faces, Aang angled Appa down for a landing right in the gently waving field of green.

"There's… just so much of it," Katara said in wonder. She was the one to jump down first, grinning widely when she felt how springy the grass was under her booted moccasins. Her sudden movement disrupted the native bugs, and a swarm of tiny gnats flew up to circle crazily at waist height. Off in the field they could hear more; chirping, chattering, droning insects. Far too many to count. So much more life in this field than an entire snow-plain back home.

Zuko was next. He stretched, giving a jaw-cracking yawn before he slid down the bison's side and landed lightly on his feet. Gazing around this alien vista, Zuko knelt down, curling his fingers in the green shoots and inhaled the strange yet somehow vaguely familiar scent of vegetation and sun-baked earth.

Beside him, Sokka did the same and sneezed.

Aang leaned against his upright airstaff, a small smile on his face as he watched the siblings cautiously explore. "You guys have never seen grass before?"

"We've never been outside the South Pole." Katara threw a glance at Zuko, who simply shrugged back. He had been, but he didn't remember, so it didn't count. This was as new for him as it was for Sokka and Katara.

"Oh wow, well this is nothing! Just wait until you see the Si Wong desert. And the Fire Nation has rain forests so thick you can't even cut your way through. Oh! And the Hei Bai forest—"

"We're going to the North Pole." Sokka straightened up — he had been busy poking the tip of his boomerang into a prairie-rabbit hole, but any tasty little creature was burrowed too far down to reach. "Remember?"

"But there's no reason we can't have a little fun on the way." The airbender smiled. "You have to at least ride the giant elephant koi."

"Aang, I know fun." Sokka stuck a thumb in his chest. "I am the Master of Fun, and riding a giant fish does not sound like fun."

 

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Hours later, Sokka repeated his complaint, this time while standing on the shores of a nearby bay with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"Well," Zuko said, as he gathered some loose kindling into an organized pile and lit it with a quick burst of heat. "It _looks_ like he's having fun to me."

Far out across the sparkling blue bay, Aang was a doll-sized figure stripped down to his underpants and grasping on tightly to the fin of an orange and white fish easily the size of Appa. The fish dove and jumped through the water, looking pleased to have him as a passenger.

"Wow! Look at him go!" Katara had waded out to her knees in the bone-aching icy water and watched Aang with shining eyes. She raised a hand to wave at him, and out in the bay, he waved wildly back.

By the fire, Zuko made an exaggerated retching sound.

The elephant-koi took another wild leap, its body rising almost straight out of the water before landing back with a crash and a spray of white. They could hear the boy's happy laughter and wild whoops of joy echoing back to the shore.

Sokka crossed his arms even tighter. "Well, that's just… Clearly, the fish is doing all the work." But he looked more than a little wistful, like he was battling between staying in his grumpy mood as leader, or swimming out to take his turn on the giant fish.

Zuko stood, wiping his hands clean on the hem of his long blue tunic. He was considering the same thing as his brother, but his sharp eyes caught something dark and foreboding under the water. He squinted, raising his hand to shield his eyes. It couldn't be a deeper patch, because it was moving. A fin — dark and spiked, unlike the white and orange koi — sliced out of the water.

"AANG!" he yelled, "LOOK OUT!"

The fin turned and headed straight for the boy.

By now Katara and Sokka had also seen the danger and joined in the yelling. "AANG! GIANT FISH THING!" "COME BACK!" "BEHIND YOU!"

Aang waved back, pleased that his friends were so excited.

Sokka grabbed up his whale-bone machete and looked at his younger brother. "C'mon, we need to go after him."

But there was no need. Aang had finally turned his head and seen the dark snake-like shape heading towards him. He yelped and jumped clear of the fish, his legs pumping so fast and bending the air around him so that he actually ran over the surface of the water. The black fin was in hot pursuit, but it was no match for the airbending master. Aang didn't slow down, and ended up running headlong into Sokka and Zuko at the shore. All three boys crashed back against the rise of the bank in a tangle of limbs.

"Ugh," Aang groaned, clutching his head where he had bumped into Sokka's elbow. "What was that thing?"

"How should I know?" Zuko snapped. Aang's knee was digging painfully into his stomach, and he shoved the other boy off before getting to his feet.

The bay was tranquil again, and as deceptively calm as a smoothed over mirror. Even the elephant-koi had fled in the face of that… Whatever it was.

Aang scratched his head in wonder and went over to his pile of clothes, tugging the wide pants and orange over-shirt back over his head. "I don't think that was there one-hundred years ago."

Sokka took Katara's proffered hand, standing up and rubbing his back. "Wow, Aang, you're right, that _was_ super-fun. Can we go now?"

No sooner had he said that then there was a sharp snapping of a twig in the nearby rocky forest. The kids turned, all suddenly reminded that they were not in the South Pole and in enemy territory. The Water Tribe siblings had hardly any experience with forests at all, and even the two boys shifted together nervously. Was that a shadow or a person behind the trunk of that tree?

Appa gave a low groan, mournful and yet somehow annoyed, and suddenly they were surrounded.

Zuko only had a second to react. He reached out to the campfire, trying to bring the flames to bear, but his arm was knocked away. He caught a flash of green — an impression of a white painted face, and then his knees were kicked out from under him, his face pushed in the dirt. A thin noose was pulled over his wrists, tying them behind his back, and a blindfold slid over his eyes.

And beside him, he heard his brother groan, "Or we could stay awhile…"

Zuko found himself hauled back up to his feet. His captors were strangely silent, but he felt quick hands search over his pockets — removing his boomerang and bone-club. The thought of those same pawing hands, those same dirty fingers, searching over his sister in the same brisk and intimate fashion made his heart contract in rage.

"Katara?" he demanded, twisting his head right and left. It was no use; he couldn't see through the thick blindfold.

"Right here." Her voice came from his right; choked and scared.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes... They have me blindfolded."

"Me too."

"We're _all_ blindfolded," Sokka muttered.

Then Aang's bright voice cut in. "Don't worry. I'm sure this is all just a big misunderstanding."

Someone shoved Zuko forward and he stumbled, unsure of his footing on the pebbly terrain. His captor had to hook an arm him under his elbow to keep him from falling flat on his face. Being hauled up again, Zuko caught a strange scent he didn't quite understand — orange blossoms and vanilla.

"Where are you taking us?!" Sokka demanded, from Zuko's left. He heard uneven footsteps as if his brother was struggling to find his footing as well. "If you lay one finger on any of them—" There was a deep thump and then Sokka's voice again; high and cracking, "Naaaugh… Ow, OW!"

"No!" Zuko surged forward against his captor's grasp. "Don't hurt him!"

Something sharp was pressed against the back of his neck. It felt like pinpricks of fingernails. As if in a warning to silence himself. But that didn't make sense. What kind of warriors had long fingernails? Then he was shoved forward again.

He could only imagine that they were being led through the forest. The terrain underfoot soon went from rocky to soft with an odd crunching sound he assumed was dead, dried foliage. Aang had told them all only this morning how the trees in these area — so different from the sparse conifers back home — shed their thick, broad leaves every winter. That had to be what was crunching.

Zuko heard occasional stumbling, whispered curses from his siblings and even from Aang — what were Monkey-feathers, anyway? — But whoever had a hold on him kept a very strong grip. He only lost his footing once or twice.

Eventually, they came to a flat area he hoped was a road. He could smell the slight scent of roasting meat, and heard the general babble of people. That was good. If the blindfold were taken away and his hands freed, he might be able to draw from the fire. There had to be patches of snow around that Katara could use as a weapon.

With one final shove, Zuko was turned and pushed backward against something hard and rough. He shrugged his shoulders, but something — his guess would be another rope — was secured around his middle, tying him against a thick pole. He assumed the others got the same treatment, because once the rope was tightened Sokka seemed to explode in ire. "Who are you?! Show yourselves, cowards!"

A man's voice broke in, deep and foreboding. "You four have some explaining to do."

Another voice spoke, but this one was a lot more feminine. "And if you don't answer all of our questions, we're throwing you back in the water with the Unagi."

Zuko grit his teeth, and tried to shrug from out of the bonds, but the ropes were tight. He could barely move. "We weren't doing anything wrong!"

The girl spoke. "This one," and Zuko felt something hard, like the butt of a weapon, poke into his chest. "looks he’s been in some fights. I think he’s a firebender."

"He's not," Sokka snapped, cutting off Zuko's angry retort. "You saw wrong."

Aang spoke up. "It's my fault. I'm the one who brought them here. If you should be angry at anyone, it's me. I didn't mean to trespass, though! Honest!"

That did the trick. Rough hands scrabbled at the back of Zuko's head. The blindfold was lifted, and he blinked for a few moments against the bright light before the scene resolved itself. To his side, Katara and the others were getting the same treatment. But what stood in front of him caught most of his attention. Zuko had been ready for anything — though he was fairly sure he hadn't been caught by Fire Nation soldiers, but instead of burly earthbenders he saw… girls?

"Wait," he said, twisting his head about to make sure the actual warriors weren't hiding somewhere in the back. "Where are the men who ambushed us?"

Suddenly one of the girls; painted like the rest but with a large golden tiara on her head stepped forward, all menace. She grabbed him by the collar with enough strength to lift him to his toes, and a green gloved fist shook in his face. "There were no men! _We_ ambushed you. Now tell us who are you and what are you doing here?"

To his side, Sokka let out a bark of a laugh. "Wait a second. There's no way that _you_ took us down."

The girl-warrior raked him over with narrowed, smoky-blue eyes. "We'll feed the loud one to the Unagi first," she said with a glare for Sokka, "the scarred one can go next."

"No!" Katara gasped, straining at her bonds. "Wait! Don't hurt them! My brothers are just idiots, sometimes."

Aang looked at the warriors with an earnest, innocent face. "I just wanted to ride the elephant koi. We didn't mean to cause any trouble miss… Uh, warrior, ma’am."

"How do we know you're not Fire Nation spies?" the old man demanded, while the warrior-girl continued glaring at the two brothers. "Kyoshi Island has stayed out of this war so far. We intend to keep it that way."

Something pinged deep in Zuko's mind. For a spare moment he thought it was another vague fact that had drifted its way up from the dark, shadowed recesses of his hidden memories. But no, this was a _true_ memory, long ago when he first came into the tribe.

"_Take him to Kyoshi Island. They're soft hearted, and they'd never treat him wrong for being what he is."_

Right.

Looking around at these stern, painted faces and this strange vista filled with trees and rocks, Zuko repressed a shudder. For the thousandth time in his life, he cursed that fool Auya. These Kyoshi Islanders were threatening to kill them all just for trespassing. He couldn't imagine what they would have done to him as a child if they found out he was a firebender.

The name of the island had inspired a memory in Aang as well, but a wholly different one. "Oh," he said in a long, satisfied sigh. "This island is named for Kyoshi? Well, I know Kyoshi!"

There was a distinct, shocked silence. Then the old man laughed, laying his hands on his ample belly. "Avatar Kyoshi was born here four-hundred years ago. She has been dead for centuries."

"I know her because I'm the Avatar."

This earned him confused looks from everyone, including the three siblings. They could all see the statue of Avatar Kyoshi if they craned their heads up; a large strong-jawed woman in green and gold uniform. Aang was just a goofy kid, maybe a bit small for his age. His cheerful demeanor looked completely out of place, especially compared to the statue. It looked like Kyoshi had never smiled in her life.

Clearly, the old man was of the same mind. He had stopped laughing and now regarded them all with intense disapproval. "I've heard enough of this. Throw the imposter to the Unagi."

Instantly, the female warriors behind him snapped to attention. They advanced with what looked to be bladed fans in their hands.

"Aang," Katara said in a terse whisper, "Do some airbending!"

It seemed to be just what he was waiting for. With another, more secret smile, Aang took a deep breath and with a rush of wind he broke free of the bonds.

It was almost worth getting tied up to see the villagers — including all of the warriors save for the leader — shrink back with jaws dropped as the boy shot straight up in the air, flipped over the statue of their Avatar idol, and float easily back down.

The old man's mouth worked for a few seconds before he was able to speak. "It—it's true. You _are_ the Avatar." Then he bowed, and every watching villager did the same.

Last was the leader of the warriors. She looked as if she was trying to swallow something very sour, and her suspicious eyes stayed on Sokka and Zuko for a long moment before she dropped her gaze and bowed.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Prince Iroh stood on the bow of his ship, hands clasped behind his back and observing the harbor with weary amber eyes. He heard the familiar tap, tap of boots upon the metal platting behind him. He did not have to turn around to know that Ji had come to his side.

"Commander Zhao has done well for himself," his Lieutenant murmured, echoing Iroh's own thoughts. The harbor was choked with warships, most of them making Iroh's own vessel seem undersized. The Prince preferred his ship — it was quick and nimble where the giants were plodding and slow. But he did not want to think about the well stocked kitchens, or the modern amenities of the newer models.

Iroh nodded and regarded Ji from the corner of his eye. "You have what you need for your journey, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir. And I've circulated your orders among the crew. No one is to go ashore in your absence." Except, of course, for Ji himself. This would be the point where he would separate from the crew and the prince he had served with for two years. It would be easy to blend in and lose himself in this busy Southern hub. If all went well, he would be back in Fire Nation territory within the month with the message to Princess Ursa in hand.

"Good," Iroh rumbled, "I will distract Commander Zhao and give you the time that you need."

"Thank you. It… has been a pleasure serving with you, sir."

Iroh turned and clasped a warm hand upon Ji's shoulder. His smile for his Lieutenant was genuine. "We will meet again, Ji. I am sure of it. Keep safe."

A half hour later, the ship had been tied to the dock, and Iroh was striding alone down the rampart. He was unsurprised to see a small welcoming party — his royal flag was recognizable. Commander Zhao himself stood at the head of it, and when Iroh's boots touched soil, the commander bowed low.

"It is an honor to receive the Prince of the Fire Nation." Zhao's voice was much as Iroh remembered it, smooth — too smooth. "What brings you to my harbor?"

"My ship needs to resupply, and I am here to requisition two of your war-balloons."

Zhao's face was too schooled to show any surprise, but Iroh thought he caught a hint of it anyway in his glittering eyes. "Of course, Prince Iroh. Would you care to join me for a drink?"

Iroh nodded, and the Commander turned smartly so that they walked side-by-side. "You have amassed quite the fleet, Commander," said Iroh with an eye for the row upon row of ships docked along the port.

"All of the navel forces are gearing up for the arrival of Sozin's Comet," Zhao replied. "Although I plan on cutting their teeth on some of the smaller islands off the Earth Kingdom. You've come at the right time, General. Another day would have seen us gone.” He inclined his head politely. “How goes your search for the Avatar?"

Iroh smiled something benign, yet secret. "To be expected. I plan on using the balloons to visit the Southern Air Temple. No one has been there for a hundred years. There may still be a sign…"

This was a lie, of course. Iroh was counting on the young monk's return to the temple, and with him… his nephew. He only had to get there before the children arrived. His tiles were laid on the table, so to speak, and the trap was being set.

Commander Zhao led him to the main staging tent, and Iroh's nose was assaulted with overly fragrant packets of tea.

"Do you have any ginseng?" Iroh asked, hopefully. "It is my favorite."

 

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

The next morning, the kids woke to a polite knock on the door. Sokka was the one who answered it, his hair still down and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He had to jump quickly out of the way as a gaggle of women, all carrying steaming platters of food walked in. A table was quickly set up, and soon it was covered with at least eighteen different types of food. The women scurried out as quickly as they came in, some winking and giggling at the child Avatar.

"Wow!" Aang exclaimed, sitting himself up at the head of the table and looking over it with wide grey eyes. "Dessert for breakfast!" He picked up a roll of sticky-sweet rice and popped it into his mouth. "You've got to try this one, Katara." He said thickly as he pointed excitedly to an orange-shaded roll.

Katara did, smiling at her friend's happiness as she took a bite. Then her expression changed to something strange — almost as if she was going to sneeze. She coughed and spat it back out into her napkin. "Hot!"

Zuko took one of the orange rolls for himself, and his remaining eyebrow raised at the spice when he bit into it. "Hey, that's not so bad." Then he promptly stuck another one onto his plate.

Katara, still fanning at her mouth, looked over and saw that someone had not joined the table. "C'mon, Sokka. The food is getting cold."

Her eldest brother sat slumped by the window, arms crossed moodily over his chest. "Not hungry."

All activity at the table stopped. Zuko and Katara exchanged a look of mutual shock. Even Aang seemed mildly surprised — he had heard Sokka complain bitterly over food many times in the last few days that he'd known him.

"Since when are you not hungry?" Zuko asked.

"Since he got his butt kicked yesterday by a bunch of _girls_," Katara replied, eager to dig one in after her little conversation with Sokka the other night.

Zuko and Aang laughed; it all seemed so stupid now that they were safe, and that Aang was being treated like a god by these people.

Sokka shot them all an icy glare, clearly not amused.

Aang grinned widely, and waved his hand, sending a couple of creamy pastries flying to the older boy. "Don't be angry, Sokka. Enjoy yourself. They're giving us the royal treatment!" Another puff of air and the light pastries fell onto a small plate right by Sokka's side.

The boy looked at it, and with a resigning sigh, took a bite. He chewed thoughtfully for a few moments, but then his face soured. With an angry shake of his head, he got up. The door slammed behind him.

Katara made a move to get up, but Zuko was first and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. I'll talk to him." He rose and followed Sokka out. He found him, a few moments later, sulking just outside the door.

"What's wrong with you?" Zuko demanded, once the door was safely shut behind.

Sokka shot him a scathing look. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"No you're not. You let those warrior girls get to you, didn't you?"

"No!" he said at once, although it was obvious that the answer was 'Yes.'

Zuko rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning against the far wall, waiting. It didn't take long. Sokka was seething, gritting his teeth and clasping his hands into tight fists. As Katara had observed, it was hard for him to keep what was bothering him inside.

"It's just — I just… I couldn't stop those firebenders from getting to the village or taking you away, and I couldn't protect you or Katara yesterday."

"Oh." Zuko was silent for a beat, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He had thought Sokka was just dealing with a bruised ego. Now he wished that he had taken his sister along. She knew how to provide comfort. "Look," he began, hesitantly, "we were really outnumbered back at the village, and we were sort of taken by surprise here—"

"It doesn't matter." Sokka shook his head angrily, full of self recrimination. "It's my job to keep you two safe and I've failed. Twice."

Zuko couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at that. After all, he could take care of himself. He didn't need his big brother to do it for him. But he bit back those words, instead saying, "Look Sokka, you're probably going to fail a lot—"

"Thanks, Zuko." Sokka's eyes were flinty, and before Zuko could finish, his brother shouldered past him. "That really helps."

"Hey, I had a point to that!" But Zuko was calling to empty air. Sokka had turned the corner, and walked away.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

After Sokka left, the mood in the guest suite became muted. Zuko ate quietly, ignoring Aang's longing looks out the window at the clear blue sky and Katara's annoyed little tuts over random female voices that kept filtering through the wooden walls.

Apparently news that the Avatar himself was staying in the village had drifted all over Kyoshi Island. A gathering of what appeared to be mostly young females was forming in the square outside, and Aang periodically stuck his head outside to give them a wave. Finally, he announced that he was going to go exploring.

Zuko muttered his own excuse and left, feeling the weight of Katara's glare between his shoulders. He forced himself not to care. He didn't have to spend all day inside, sulking, just because Katara wanted to. He had his own plans.

He tried not to think about what General Iroh had told him when he was aboard the Fire Nation ship. It was nonsense. And even if it were true — which it _wasn't_, he quickly told himself — it wouldn't matter anyway because he was part of the Water Tribe. He didn't have any ties to the Fire Nation.

Still, feeling somewhat guilty for it, Zuko asked around, wondering if Kyoshi Island had a library or a hall of records. It was a long shot — why would anyone from the Earth Kingdom have records of the Royal Fire Nation family tree? But it at least kept him out of the way of the screaming masses of girls that seemed to follow Aang around.

He was eventually directed to an old hut set off to the side behind a row of overgrown bushes. He walked up the worn dirt path, noting how this hut — like so many others of this tiny village — looked to be in disrepair, and could stand to use a coat of paint.

The door was unlocked, but shrieked horribly on rusty hinges when he opened it. He walked in, curious, and then was immediately disappointed. Instead of scrolls or books there was a woman's dress and boots mounted on what could only be a shrine. It had the same functional utilitarian look as those warriors who had attacked them yesterday.

Something was painted on the far wall, and he bent close to look. It was a mural, but of what he couldn't quite tell. The only light came from outside through the half-open door, and it wasn't enough to distinguish details. He lit a kindle of flame in his palm, but the paint was so faded and dusty he could only make out the outlines of a peaceful scene; people working, building, children playing in the fields. Overlooking them all stood a tall dignified Kyoshi Warrior with a bladed fan resting near her thigh.

The door squealed open behind him, bringing with it a rush of fresh air, and the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors strode in, still decked out in her full regalia.

Zuko froze, fighting the impulse to close his hand over the flame. There wasn't any point. The girl — what had she called herself yesterday? Suki? — was staring at it. Then her jaw snapped shut, and she glared at him.

"I _knew_ I saw you reach for that fire yesterday. What are you doing here? This is a sacred hut!"

"I didn't know that." He gestured around the dim room. "And there weren't any lights."

Suki reached over, grabbing at something half hidden in the shadows. A lamp. Roughly, she handed it over. He transferred the fire to the wick, and held it up. Now illuminated, the room looked even less spectacular than before. There was a weapon's display he had completely missed, but the bladed fans and elegant looking swords seemed aged and were in need of a good oiling.

"What are you doing here?" Suki demanded again, watching him sharp eyes that reminded him of a hunting kestrel-hawk.

_Trying to find my supposed royal heritage. _Wisely, Zuko did not voice that thought out loud and instead shrugged insolently. What would Sokka do? He would charm his way to her good side, probably. Too bad Zuko didn't know how to be charming. "Uh, I like… history?" he offered.

Her painted eyes narrowed, but she stepped forward and gestured to the nearby display. "These were Avatar Kyoshi's personal weapons, and her uniform. She had the biggest feet of all the Avatars, you know."

Zuko made a sound in his throat he hoped sounded interested. He walked over to examine the mural again, and heard Suki follow.

"Your _brother_," and there was a slight uplift of her painted eyebrow at that word, as if she didn't believe their relation for a moment, "came to our dojo. He thought he would be able to show us girls a thing or two."

Zuko winced at the sharp tone in her voice. "And?"

"Let's just say we reminded him why we are called warriors." She stood in front of him now, and Zuko could almost feel the sense of danger radiating off of her. When she spoke next her voice was steely. "Us girls have kept this island free of Fire Nation rule in Avatar Kyoshi's name for a hundred years. So, let me make one thing very clear." She prodded a strong finger into Zuko's chest, "If you weren't with the Avatar, _firebender_, you would be lunch for the Unagi right now."

She was formidable, angry, and dangerously in his personal space. The wise thing would have been to step back, concede the point, or say nothing at all.

Zuko had never been that guy.

His good eye narrowed and he held his place, solidly unwilling to give an inch. In the back of his mind, he caught her scent — orange and vanilla, and it brought him back for a moment to that stumbling walk through the forest, and her tight, strong hold on him. "I have traveled and battled side-by-side with today's Avatar, and _he_ trusts me. You're just honoring a ghost."

Suki grit her teeth, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to try to hit him. But she only said, "Tell your _brother_ that he's welcome back for round two… if he's up to it."

Then, turning crisply on her heel, she strode out.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

By the time lunch had rolled around, General Iroh was convinced that he had a thief among his crew.

The journey started well: The requisitioned war-balloons had made good time, and the wind had been with them. They traveled through the night, and arrived at the Southern Air Temple just as the first rays of sunshine had peeked over the frozen, snowcapped mountains.

The Temple was much as Iroh had expected it to be: cold, remote, and empty. As far as he knew, no one had set foot there for nearly a hundred years. His men whispered and clustered together, nervously eyeing half rotted wooden railings and listening to the constant wind that whistled through empty stone corridors. Although none of them dared to speak of it in Iroh's presence — they did not want to be labeled cowards — they all feared that wind, and the ghosts of long dead airbenders that rode along with it.

Iroh did not blame them in the slightest.

It was hard — very hard — to not look into the empty rooms, the snow frosted corridors, the broken windows, and not think about how many people had died a century ago.

His tongue curled in his mouth, and it may have been his imagination but he thought he could still catch the scent of soot and ash. He could not help but think of it all as a sad waste. Surely his grandfather, Sozin, did not need to slaughter them all — as distasteful as it was, the children were all that needed to be killed. And then, only the children in a certain age. The babies and those above the age of twenty could have been spared. Wholesale slaughter was not the answer.

Iroh shook his head against those thoughts, and directed his men up to the main temple. This, he felt sure, the Avatar would be sure to visit. It seemed to be the Spiritual center of the temple.

That was before the stash of fruit was plundered, and his soldiers bright valuables went missing. Some of the men blamed the more light-fingered among them, and several scuffles broke out before Iroh ordered them back to work.

He had his own ideas what was going on, but couldn't confirm them until he caught the would-be thief red-handed.

Taking the last three sweet-peaches, the prince set himself up in a high room. From the balcony, he had the best view of the approaching vista. The weak sun was shining, soothing away aches and pains from a body now quite unaccustomed to hard labor. Iroh started to doze, awoken only by the soft sound of light feet upon the stone.

He cracked one eye, and smiled, seeing the identity of the thief. "Hello, little one," he said, softly, "You have caused much trouble for my crew today."

The white and brown creature with overly large ears sat up on his hind legs at the sound of Iroh's voice. Tilting his head, he crooned low in his throat, his large eyes focused on the closest of the three peaches.

Iroh held one out, and let the lemur approach. Its little hands were very much like a human's, and took the peach with delicate grace. It seemed content to eat by him, and when Iroh reached up to scratch behind one of the ears, it purred.

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Supper time was a communal gathering on the Island of Kyoshi. Long tables were set out and the villagers sat in groups, according to age and rank.

Aang, Katara and Zuko sat together, with every girl under the age of eighteen on the island jostling and giggling to get as close of a seat to the Avatar as possible. Aang took this in good humor and amused them with a small airbending trick which made a handful of berries fly around in crazy circles between his fingers.

Zuko glowered down at his plate, moody from his encounter with Suki. Katara wasn't much better. She sat at his side, silently disapproving of Aang's showboating. Zuko couldn't help but notice how, even though the table was almost groaning from the weight of so many girls crowding for a spot, there was an empty seat on the other side of himself. It seemed as desperate as the girls were to get close to Aang, none of them were willing to sit directly next to the disfigured kid.

Then, just as everyone had stopped chattering and was starting to tuck in, someone slid into the empty space beside Zuko. He caught a flash of a green uniform, and if anything Zuko's head dipped down lower. Great. Just what he needed. Another Kyoshi warrior.

"Hey Sokka," Aang chirped, "Nice dress."

Zuko glanced up, saw a familiar face now covered in a thick layer of lady's makeup, snorted into his cup of water, and promptly started to choke.

"Thank you, Aang," Sokka said, with as much dignity as he could muster while his little sister was overcome with a fit of giggles and his brother coughed and gasped for air.

"Sokka, w-why are you wearing a d-dress?" Katara could barely speak between her giggles. Oh, where was that portrait painter when she needed him?

Sokka drew himself up, affronted. "It's not a dress. It's a warrior's _uniform_. Suki and the other Kyoshi Warriors are teaching me how to fight in their style. See, look. The silk threads symbolizes brave blood, and the golden insignia represents the honor of a warrior's heart—"

"Yeah?" Zuko had finally gotten his breath back and reached out to poke playfully at Sokka. "What about the lipstick?"

But before his fingers could touch, Sokka whipped out a closed fan and knocked his hand away. Zuko yelped, more out of surprise than pain, because the movement had been quicker than he could react.

Sokka smirked. "The Kyoshi warrior's philosophy is turning defense into offense, and using the power of an opponent's strength against them."

"That's like waterbending!" Katara exclaimed, mildly impressed.

Sokka smiled, the first true smile he'd had since they left the South Pole. "Yup!"

Zuko shook out his stinging hand, but he couldn't help the small grudging admiration for Sokka's nerve. His family wasn't the only one who was staring at his get-up. Some of the girls had peeled their adoring eyes from Aang and were now watching Sokka — a boy in their warrior's makeup — with abject disapproval. Sokka didn't care. He bent to eat quickly, decked out in a dress and makeup, not bothered by their glares in the least. Unconsciously, it made Zuko sit up straighter in his own seat.

The other boy caught Zuko watching from the corner of his eye, and Sokka gave a ridiculous wink. "You know, I could put in a good word in with Suki. I'm sure she'd take on another pupil."

And Zuko considered it, really considered it… for the space of about five seconds. Finally, he shook his head. He was _not_ going to wear a dress. Luckily, Katara stepped in and saved him from having to beg off with a bad excuse.

"No, we haven't practiced our bending in days," she said, and Zuko shot her a look of relief. She then turned to Aang. "You could show us what you know, and maybe we could all work on new techniques together."

"Oh… uh…" The young monk bit his lip, and sent a guilty look to the fluttering girls. "I sort of already promised I would go out with them."

"Aangy's taking us for a ride on his bison," one of the little girls announced with a glare for Katara, hands on her chubby hips.

Now it was Sokka's turn to snort into his drink. "Aangy?"

"You can come along, if you want," said Aang, completely earnest, and not noticing the way that Katara's eyes had narrowed.

"I think you're letting this Avatar stuff go to your head." Her low tone was something the two brothers had learned the hard way not to mess around with. Both Sokka and Zuko leaned back from the table, instinctively distancing themselves from any sources of liquid.

Aang hadn't learned that lesson yet, and narrowed his eyes back. "You know what I think? I think you're jealous."

"Jealous?! Of what?!"

"Jealous that we're having so much fun without you."

"That's ridiculous!"

"It is a little ridiculous, but I understand."

"If you want to go traipsing with these little girls instead of practicing, I get it… I'm glad!"

"I'm glad you're glad."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Both Sokka and Zuko's heads went back and forth, following the conversation like a bouncing ball. At Aang's final words, Katara stood up so fast that she knocked against the table and all of the food shivered and jumped. "If that's the way you feel... C'mon, Zuko." She reached down, grabbing her brother under his arm and hauling him to his feet. "We're going to have to practice alone."

She didn't wait for him to respond, and he nearly had to scramble after her to keep from being forcefully dragged away.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Suki already knew about Zuko's firebending ability, and they had both more or less announced that Zuko was _some_ type of bender in front of the little girls, but they still thought it prudent to keep their practicing low key while they were at the island.

They cleared some space in the main common area of their suite. Katara found some clean water from a nearby pitcher, and Zuko pulled his flames from the lit candles. They sat traditional style, juggling their elements in easy, elegant circles above their heads. It was a deceptively hard process — requiring both concentration and breath control…

… which explained why Katara was having such a hard time.

"Remember to breathe in from your mouth and out your nose," Zuko repeated for what had to be the tenth time after her water accidentally collided with his fire in a hiss of steam.

Her face set in concentration and she pulled the water into a tight blue ring overhead. Almost playfully, Zuko sent a zip of fire through the center. But she didn’t notice. Something tight and angry crossed her face. "I bet Aang’s won’t even be careful with those girls. They could all fall out of the saddle the way he flies Appa!" The wheel of water wavered and then fell completely apart, showering them and extinguishing Zuko's fire.

"Ugh! Katara!"

"Sorry!" She stood up and waved her arms, summoning back the liquid and sending it to the pitcher.

Zuko growled and pulled his now messy hair back into a neater wolfs-tail before he did something quite rare; lit his own flame for bending. "Who cares what he is doing?" he asked, lobbing an idle ball of flame where it bounced against the far wall, leaving a scorch of soot before returning to his hand. "He's the Avatar. He can take care of himself."

"He told me he was just a simple monk." Katara snapped, "But now he's just letting this all go to his head!"

Zuko sighed and extinguished the flame. "Give the kid a break. His whole people were wiped out by the Fire Nation. He's probably just acting out, or something."

But Katara wasn't listening. She was busy glowering out the window and Zuko distinctly heard her growl out the word, "Aangy" before she got up and walked out.

The firebender sighed and wondered to himself when, exactly, he had become the sane sibling.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Katara slammed open the flimsy wooden door with enough force for it to crack against the far breakpoint and then snap back into place with an equally loud crash behind her. Later on, she would look back on the day and feel a little badly for the way she was acting, for dragging her brother away from a perfectly good meal only to cut practice short.

Now all she could see were those twittering girls with their stupid doe-eyed expressions, and poor Aang—who was only a kid, after all, and very naïve to the world—falling for their stupid charms.

_Aangy_. UGH!

She had meant what she said before. She was sure Aang wasn't being careful. The girls would laugh at his stupid jokes and he would bush from the point of his bald head to the soles of his feet, and he probably would urge Appa up too high or too fast…

The path from the village down to the bay sloped downward, and Katara found her pace picking up as she went. Her thoughts grew darker with each step, and soon she was jogging with her fists tight and angry against her thighs—and then running full pelt; knocking away winter-bare branches and jumping through patches of nettles. Somehow, someway she knew that her worries had come to life and her friend was going to get hurt…

And then she was at the rocky beach overlooking the cold, blue bay. Appa almost looked like a white cloud hovering in the sky. He was so far out across the water that he was the size of Katara's hand when she held it out from her.

Shielding her eyes from the brightly reflecting sun, Katara suddenly felt a little silly. They were far away, but she could see that Appa was traveling at what looked to be a sedate pace. She had been expecting crazy loopy-loops… but the bison could have been a plow-ostrichhorse for all he was hanging in the sky.

With a sigh, Katara dropped her hand and walked over to the nearest boulder. Brushing snow from the cap of the stone, she sat down. She would just stay here for a few minutes…

… a few minutes turned into an hour, and by then it was clear that Aang was going to continue flying Appa in sedate laps around the bay. Katara crossed her arms over her chest, feeling annoyed at herself, and at Aang for some reason — mostly because he hadn't acted out impulsively, and so now _she_ felt like the unreasonable jerk.

Finally she got up, brushing out her dress to straighten it of wrinkles. She was getting stiff and sore sitting like that. Maybe she should go check up on Sokka. What kind of little sister was she if she missed out on the opportunity to make fun of him in a dress?

She had no sooner turned than a scream — so high and far away it could almost be mistaken for the wind — pierced the air. Whipping back, Katara saw something rising from the depths of the bay with a wedge shaped head and trailing whiskers. It was the Unagi.

And it was reaching towards Appa.

"NO!" Katara cried, slapping her hands to her mouth in horror. But her shout was too little, too far to do any good. She had to watch, feeling helpless as the bison swerved to the right.

The Unagi missed his target, but its great head crashed along Appa's side. The bison's deep roar of pain and surprise could be heard across the water, and a tiny speck with waving arms and legs fell from his saddle to the water below.

Katara didn't think. Her body acted for her. She sloshed into the water, heedless of her heavy, fur-lined dress, of the bone-aching cold, aware that she was out to shore and the poor girl who’d fallen was nearly in the middle of the bay. She would never reach in time.

_Are you a waterbender or not?!_ snapped a voice in her head, sounding very much like Zuko.

Oh… Right.

She froze a thick block of ice in front of her, and, after hauling herself up, she centered her feet and repeated her 'ice berg bridge move' to create a frozen pathway about twenty feet out. "Hold on!" she yelled, dashing the length before pausing to lengthen the path. "Hold on! I'm coming!"

Meanwhile Aang had pulled Appa around, aiming a charge at the Unagi before sweeping away at the last second with a blast of air; keeping the sea-serpent's attention on himself instead of the little girl in the water.

One last shove, and Katara's ice pathway froze alongside the girl. She reached down, hauling the shaking, sobbing girl up onto solid ice. But the Unagi had not failed to notice what was going on nearly right beside it.

The Unagi and Katara locked eyes; blue against fishy green. It seemed for a long moment—although it was only a second or two. Then the creature's jaws parted, and it dove down…

… but not before Aang got there first.

A wall of white, and a hand grasped around Katara's own— she didn't know when she had even held it out. She was hauled up, and up, feeling as if her arm was going to be wrenched from its socket, and only had the presence of mind to grab onto the little girl by the collar, carrying her along with her. The wind itself seemed to pillow under her feet, and abruptly Katara and the little girl found themselves in Appa's saddle.

But the Unagi was still reaching for them. Appa turned to the side, and those rows and rows of razor sharp teeth missed him by bare inches. A blast of putrid fishy air swept over them all — the Unagi's breath.

Appa slapped his wide tail across the choppy water and they were flying up and up, out to safety.

"Aang!" Katara meant for her voice to be a rebuke, but it came out more like a breathless gasp. Almost a thank-you.

Abruptly, she found herself surrounded by all the little girls. Some were laughing out of pure relief, most were crying… but all apparently felt the need to be with a mother figure, and as eldest girl and hero of the moment, Katara fit the bill. She found herself crowded, and did her best to murmur comfort to them all, especially the fallen girl, Koko, who clung onto her with white-knuckled strength.

"Katara! That—that was amazing!" Aang hovered just off to the side, looking embarrassed and awed at the same time.

She felt a warm tingle go up her spine. Aang, an airbending master, the _Avatar_, was awed at _her_? "You were so brave. I didn't know you could waterbend like that!"

She grinned. She couldn't help it. "Thanks, Aang. Don't tell my brothers, though." She could imagine their very bad reaction to her being in danger; it involved Aang strung up by Sokka's best rope, and Zuko coming at him with fire ready.

Perhaps Aang had the same thought, because he grinned sheepishly. "I'm not saying a word."

Appa groaned under them as if in agreement, and the young monk patted his head.

"Appa promises not to say anything, either." But then the bison groaned again, this time in a lower note and Aang looked to him in concern before glancing out to sea.

No less than four grey ships were silhouetted just over the horizon. Even from this distance, he could see the red and black flags. The Fire Nation.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

"Out skulking again?"

At the sound of that voice, Zuko decided he officially hated Kyoshi island. From its stupid sea monster, to its forests with not enough snow, to (_and especially_) its woman warriors. He hated this place, and once he and the others continued onto the North Pole he was never, _ever_ coming back.

He didn't turn around to acknowledge the voice. That didn't deter Suki. She had a long stride, and it was easy to catch up and match pace alongside him.

They walked in silence for a few moments, around the winding path that took them through the outer perimeters of the village — where stone walled wells and ties for ostrich-horses rose from the ground.

Zuko glanced at her from the corner of his scarred eye to see her watching him. He sighed. "What do you want?"

She arched a finely painted brow. "Who says I wanted anything?"

"I'm just walking. You don't need to follow me."

"Who says I'm following you? Maybe I'm just walking this way, too."

"Yeah right." But short of tackling her, he wasn't sure how to ditch the Kyoshi Warrior. She could probably outrun anything he tried to pull, and by the set of her shoulders and the smug sort of air nearly leaking off of her, she knew it, too.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. They made an interesting set; scarred Water Tribe boy and painted warrior. Zuko couldn't help but notice how Suki kept looking at him, just slightly out of the corner of her eye.  Each time he caught her at it, he bristled. Until finally: "_What?!_"

"Someone cut your throat, didn’t they?"

"W-what?" He repeated, and this time his voice broke. It wasn't what she said that had surprised him — he had just been expecting her to accuse him of trying to burn down the forest, or something. His hand reached up to absently rub over the swollen pink line that extended from just under his jaw on his right side and across to the collar bone on his left. He hardly ever paid that scar much mind. When people stared at him, it was at his face, not his neck. "I mean, yeah… I guess." He rubbed at it absently and shrugged, turning away.

But she caught his wrist and before he could object she was stood close, examining it. She touched his jaw, turning his head to get a better look. "It looks deep. What happened?"

"What do you think?" he snapped, shrugging away. He didn't like the pity in her voice just as much as he didn't like the suspicion. "I don't see how it's any business of yours."

"I'm a warrior." She replied, hands on her hips, completely unrepentant. "I'm trained to fight and defend, and I was just… surprised, was all. Most would die from—from that."

"Well, I didn't." He wanted to walk away, but she would just follow him. He started to rub again at the scar, then realized what he was doing and forced his hand back down. "It messed up my voice. I couldn't talk for a few months afterwards." Until the first time he penguin sledded. He nearly grinned at the memory, and then caught himself, feeling her eyes still on him. "You should ask Sokka how I started speaking again. He can tell the story better than I can."

Suki rolled her eyes. "Oh, him." But before Zuko could bristle at her tone, she continued, "He's quite the charmer, you know. Or at least, he thinks he is. But he's learning quickly." She grinned wickedly. "And he looks pretty good in a dress."

Zuko groaned. "This had better not leave this island. I don't know how my family will live it down."

"So, is that why you're not training with us?"

He stared at her, struck dumb, and she casually walked forward, flicking out a fan as if it was a true lady's ordainment, and not a sharp weapon. "Sokka said he's trying to become a warrior. I can respect him for that. He's taking his training seriously, and trying to better himself. You, on the other hand, would rather have your pride, and spy around the village—"

"I told you I wasn't spying!"

"And sulk in the forest," Suki continued, archly.

"I'm not— I wasn't—" He was sputtering, frustrated, and clenching his fists so tight that wisps of smoke were curling from between his fingers. The second he realized it was happening, he relaxed his hands, but Suki's sharp eyes picked up on it anyway.

"Careful," she said. "I have been training all my life to fight against the likes of you. If you want to spar, then we'll do it in the dojo." A pause. "I want to show all my girls how to defeat a firebender."

He grit his teeth, growling out, "Fine. You're on." And it would only occur to him later that perhaps this was what Suki had been after all along, and that he was being baited — quite successfully.

But before Suki could reply, before she could set the terms, the peel of bells rang through the air, loud and piercing even though they were some way from the village.

Suki tensed and Zuko did, too, instinctively and looking around for a clue on what was going on.

"Those are the alarm bells. We're being invaded!" All humor was gone from her voice, and somehow — Zuko couldn't quite figure out how — she seemed to grow taller, then. A new air of authority. "Get back to the village and hide with the others. My women will take care of this." And before he could reply, she had sprinted off.

A shadow passed overhead, and through the tops of the trees he saw the white mass of Appa's belly. The decision was easy. If Suki thought he was going to hide from a battle, she was crazier than he thought she was.

"Aang!" he yelled, and ran to where the bison was landing; a clearing just outside the forest. "Wait up!"

 

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

Kyoshi Island was well known for its deep, wide harbor. It was part of the reason why the fishing industry was so valued here. In the off season, the harbor could provide for every ship and its protected bays could shield all against heavy winter storms.

Unfortunately, the bay which had provided for Kyoshi’s people even when they were connected to the mainland Earth Kingdom was also more than large enough to provide for the large Fire Navy imperial battle cruisers, commanded by Zhao.

The Fire Navy ships met no resistance when pulling into harbor. Almost simultaneously, the four bowspirits dipped, and a small platoon of men backed by a cavalry of Komodo Rhinos disembarked.

Commander Zhao led the way, clad for war and sitting atop his own Komodo Rhino.

His amber eyes narrowed as he took in the sharp, rocky beach; the winter-thin forest that wouldn't provide good cover for guerrilla resistance, and the wide path that led to the main town. It was quiet; he wouldn't be surprised if the locals were in hiding, or had fled outright. They would if they knew what was good for them.

"Set fire to the forest!" he ordered, indicating the platoon on the right. After all, the village didn't need to be viable for it to be useful to the Fire Nation. They were just in need of the harbor.

A cruel smile curved at the Commander's lips. He gave the order to march forward.

 

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

"Is it Prince Iroh again?" Katara rasped, peeking around the far corner of the general store. She, Aang and Zuko had stayed behind, wanting to fight. The children and young mothers who were not Kyoshi Warriors were herded into the far caves at the foot of the mountain. There would be enough supplies there for a week of siege.

Zuko braced himself against the edge of the building and glanced out, a quick furtive look. "No," he whispered, "Those ships are flying the flags of Sea Wolves. Iroh has the twin flame of the crown heir. Their troops are coming up the path. Get ready."

She nodded, flicking her hand to a nearby well. A small stream of water leapt to her command and streamed through the air, coiling around her wrist like an affectionate blue snake. Her brother nodded back and she heard the soft crackle of flame held in the palm of one hand.

There were so many Fire Nation soldiers. At least twice as many as this village had Kyoshi Warriors. She wasn't sure if she and Zuko could help too much — Oh, how she wished she could have learned something useful from Aang! — but they weren't going to hide. They were benders, no matter how poorly trained and self-taught. They had to help.

"Do you think Sokka's with the girls?" Zuko murmured.

The thought of her eldest brother fighting in women's makeup and a dress caused a slight smile, even as her stomach clenched in renewed worry. He had better take care of himself. If he got hurt or killed, she… she would never forgive him.

The Fire Nation soldiers advanced, and Katara felt herself trembling. Her and Zuko's plan was to wait for the Kyoshi Warrior's signal, and then strike from the side.

But before the soldiers entered the center of town — a threshold marked by the intimidating statue of Avatar Kyoshi glaring down at them from up top her high pole — there was the sound of whistling wind and a abruptly, a yellow and orange figure landed in front of the cavalry.

Katara gasped, looking reflexively behind her where, a moment ago, Aang had been waiting.

To her side, Zuko gave a low growl, "Idiot! What is he doing?!" and Katara had to put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from rushing after the younger boy.

"What's this?" The man astride the lead rhino. His face, unshielded by helmet, had confident, cruel features. He gave a loud laugh. "So this is what the people of Kyoshi have to defend them? A little boy?" He laughed again; a laugh that ended with a blast of fire aimed right at Aang's feet.

The young monk spun around, wielding his airstaff and knocked the blast harmlessly to the side. "No," he declared, and his young voice seemed to echo through the empty buildings and deserted streets. "I'm the Avatar."

It seemed to be just the signal that the Kyoshi Warriors were waiting for. At once three green-garbed warriors fell upon the mounted soldiers from their hiding places up top the roofs. Five more appeared from between buildings, wielding war fans to engage them directly.

The leader, for his part, gaped at Aang for the space of two seconds and then fired a larger bolt of fire at him.

Aang was far too quick, and before the flames had even left the commander’s hands he had jumped up and away in a rush of air that knocked the commander right off his rhino.

Katara and Zuko entered the fray. Stepping forward in a synchronized movement, they shot out fire and water in a long twisting ribbon, knocking two men off their mounts before the elements returned back to their hands.

"The rhinos!" Zuko yelled, seeing an opportunity. "Aim for the rhinos!"

Again, their elements shot out, water following the rapidly flowing fire. They struck their target, the nearest rhino's backside. The animal let out a roar of pain and surprise, lifting up on its high feet, and throwing its rider. It swung its head left and right, blindly, panicked, and charged forward to crash into two other rhinos, throwing them into a rage.

The lines of the Fire Nation soldiers broke, and what had been a organized invasion now seemed to have disintegrated into a common brawl. Firebenders were falling left and right to fan-wielding girls. Commander Zhao was barking out orders, trying to get a fix on the child Avatar. But just as Prince Iroh's men had discovered earlier, it was nearly impossible to hit the bounding, flipping, dodging boy. Aang retaliated in kind with powerful blasts of air that sent three men sprawling backwards.

In their excitement and anxiety to do some good, Zuko and Katara had stepped out from their hiding place from in back of the general store, and were sending their elements into the fray wherever they could. Zuko was still aiming his fire to terrify the rhinos, and Katara had gotten the idea to freeze water where the soldiers were standing, making them slip on patches of ice that were not there a second before.

The siblings didn't realize how exposed they were, and it was only by a stroke of luck that Zuko heard the quiet crunch of boots against stone above all the shouting and fire-blasting. He whipped around just in time to divert away a jet of fire aimed for himself and Katara. The jet arced over them both, crashing into the far wall of the building to their backs.

Katara retaliated with a wave of water that sprung up from the well, but the three firebenders were more than up for it, and two blasts later, the wave was dissipated in a rush of steam.

The three firebenders advanced. The boy and girl backed up nervously.

The lead firebender punched out, and Zuko took a deep breath, ready to call up a wall of flames to defend — but at the last moment something golden hit the firebender's wrist — a bladed fan — and knocked his arm away. A Kyoshi Warrior bounded into the fray, dealing a sharp upper cut to the firebender, which brought him down. The other two firebenders rushed towards the warrior, but she simply stepped aside and grabbed the backs of their necks, cracking their heads together.

Then, the warrior turned and she — no _he_ — smiled.

"Sokka!" Katara cried, happily.

"You guys need to be more careful." Sokka grinned again, unabashedly proud of his own actions. Then he sobered. "The soldiers set fire to the forest." He pointed out towards the forest between them and the sea, where a wisp of smoke could be seen curling up towards the sky. "The warriors need a waterbender to help put it out."

Katara nodded. "On it!" And with one last grin for Sokka, she rushed through the thickened trees.

Sokka scooped up his fallen fans, and then nodded towards his younger brother. "Come on. Aang needs some backup."

"I can't believe," Zuko said with a barely concealed grin, as he followed Sokka, "that you are still fighting in that dress."

Sokka's hand waved in the air. "Oh, it's not so bad. It's actually kind of freeing—" he stopped with a yelp, jumping back as a errant fireblast landed at his feet.

"Sokka!" But some of the fighting had spilled over, and a charging rhino broke between the two brothers, a saddle half cut and leaning crazily from its side. Zuko ducked below another wave of fire, and when he glanced up again Sokka had somehow moved twenty feet away, and was helping some of the Kyoshi warriors corral and take down a knot of benders.

All around him, men were fighting with painted women. The arid smell of smoke and cries of warriors filled the air and hammered at his ears. He had often imagined battles, mostly after his dad went to war, but he never imagined it would be like this: Chaos. Fire and bladed fans flying in every direction, barked orders no one was hearing… Screams of the wounded…

Something caught Zuko's eye — smoke behind one of the main buildings. A sinking feeling that he couldn't quite identify formed in his stomach, and he ran, leaping over a downed and moaning Fire Nation solider to round the far corner.

The brush grew thickly behind the buildings, in the space where the wood stopped and the forest began. Now that was all on fire, and backed up to it was the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. She stood, fans outstretched, facing down two firebenders, one with a Commander's sash.

"Take her alive, if you can," the Commander was saying, "She's the leader. The other girls won't fight if—"

And that was as far as he got.

Zuko centered his stance and reached out, grabbing for the blaze behind Suki. With a loop of his arms he pulled the flames towards him, safely around the Warrior girl and threw them in an overarching wave at the firebenders. The men yelled out, surprised by the sneak attack, and dove to each side. It was just the diversion that Suki needed. Her fan went sailing, hitting one of the firebender's in his helmeted head, and knocking him to the ground.

The Commander was first to return to his feet. He gave a bellow of rage and swung around, blasting a jet of such force and heat that Zuko had barely enough time to dive behind a rocky fence. He covered his head as pieces of chipped and melted rock exploded all around him.

Suddenly, the onslaught stopped. Suki jumped between them. Her bladed fans shot out: snick, snick, snap! And Commander Zhao cried out again, this time in pain, holding a deeply cut arm which bloomed blood against his chest.

Suki turned and grabbed Zuko's arm, forcing him to flee with her; back behind the momentary safety of two sheds. "You need to go. I heard him talking before — he'll chase the Avatar. You have to leave, now!"

"No!" He shook his head, gripping her arm just as fiercely as she was grabbing him. "I want stay and _fight."_

Perhaps Suki saw some of the fire in his eyes. She paused and a soft sort of smile crossed her face. "I'm sorry," she said, "about before… I shouldn't have been suspicious of you because you're a firebender. You saved my life."

"And you saved mine," said Zuko, stubbornly. "We're even."

"It's not about being even! It's—" Then she hesitated once more, and Zuko was hardly prepared for it because at that moment it was the last thing on his mind… she leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek, and whispered, "Tell your brother I said thank you. Now get out of here."

He looked at her, completely dumbstruck, but with the beginnings of a smile on his face. "Yeah…" Then, "Wait, what?"

But it was too late. With a low chuckle and a squeeze of his hand she was off again to rejoin her warriors.

He watched her go, touched his cheek, and visibly shook himself. Nothing had changed. The Kyoshi Warriors were still badly outnumbered, and worse, Zuko could see that the Fire Nation soldiers were starting to get over their initial shock and were regrouping. Suki was right. Leading them away would be the only hope to save the Island.

Zuko found himself grinning, although he didn't quite know why. He touched his cheek again; there was a slight smudge of paint.

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

Some minutes later, Appa lifted into the smoky sky. All of the kids were stained with soot and grim-faced; from the air, the destruction of Kyoshi Island was easy to see.

Katara and some of the Warriors had done their best, but a large part of the forest was still burning. Some of the buildings had been caught by the flames as well — even the statue of Kyoshi was afire.

"I should have been able to stop them." Aang slumped over the side of the saddle, downcast and exhausted.

Katara reached forward, laying a hand on his shoulder. "This isn't your fault, Aang. We're doing the right thing. The Fire Nation will follow us, and leave Kyoshi Island alone."

"Great. Then we'll have that Commander Muttonchops chasing us along with Old Prince Crazy." Sokka's words were muffled as he was trying to change out of the dress, and the thick neckpiece had gotten caught around his head. Katara rolled her eyes, and with a flick of her wrist, undid one of the ties so he didn't choke himself.

"The people of Kyoshi will rebuild," Zuko said, thinking of one warrior's strength in particular. Kyoshi Island didn't seem so bad, now... not really. "They're not going to let this get them down."

"But what if— I just wish…" The young monk trailed off with a sigh, and all was silent between them as they watched the island slowly grow smaller and smaller.

Sure enough, they could see the great ships pulling out of port. The Fire Nation was abandoning their siege. Maybe it wasn't worth it to fight these warriors with such little gain in resources — but more likely Commander Zhao just saw a tastier prize ahead.

Sokka had finally struggled back into his normal clothing, and was now rolling out a map, smoothing out the edges on the flattest part of the saddle. "Okay everyone, I figure it will take some time for those giant ships to get up to speed. We'll circle around here," he pointed to a small ring of islands, just tiny dots on the map, "to throw them off. Next stop: Aang's Air Temple."

Aang visibly brightened a little at this, and for the first time he tore his eyes away from the island. "You guys will love it. There's so many old caves, and there's an airball court…" He gave another long sigh, but this one had a note of happiness. "I can't wait to see how it's changed in the last hundred years."

Zuko winced while Katara and Sokka shot each other a quick look. No one said anything.

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

It was a bitterly cold day, and Prince Iroh was glad for the warm furry little body curled around his neck. He had expected the lemur to leave once it had fed, but it seemed to enjoy his company. Iroh found that he did as well; the creature had a very endearing way of cocking its head to the side every time he spoke, and chattering something back.

He decided to name it Momo; the old word for peach.

The lemur shifted on his shoulder and stood up, the tail curling possessively around his neck a moment before a knock was heard on the door. "Come in." Iroh commanded, soothing Momo's questioning chirp with a pat on the head.

Lieutenant Izhar walked in, giving a deep bow. "The second shift teams have checked in, sir. There's no sign of the Avatar."

"He will come, Lieutenant. Keep the men alert."

"Sir…" Lieutenant Ji would be bold enough to ask how Iroh could be so certain. But Izhar was newly promoted to his position, and unsure of where the lines lay. The Prince saw it in his face anyway, even if he decided not to answer in full. He just knew, like he had known where the weak-points in the outer wall of Ba Sing Se were. Some had called it a gift… he preferred to call it the wisdom borne of long experience. No spiritual foresight would show him the weak-points of an enemy's wall, and yet leave out the warning of his own beloved son's death.

"There are two temples for the males. This is the closer. The Avatar will be drawn to this place, his homeland. We only have to be patient."

"Y-yes, sir.," Izhar stammered and hurriedly bowed again before backing through the door.

Iroh turned again towards the window, sipping a warm cup of tea. His eyes were to the horizon, waiting.

* * *

 

**OoOoO**

* * *

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This story will be updated about once a week until it catches up to what has already been written. (So far standing at 26 chapters.)


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